With Friends Like These
by AugustinianFrog
Summary: The clouds of war gather over Corinth as the forces of the warp turn their attentions to it. For Miguel, newly minted "Gue'vesa" to a rogue Tau commander, juggling the matters of politics and allies is just as harrowing as battling the entities of chaos. Sequel to Enemy of My Enemy by popular demand.
1. Chapter 1

**With Friends Like These**

Tempestor Prime Gareth listened to the sound of the machines. The techpriests said that the machine spirit, and by extension the machines, could speak. The most exalted of the priests could simply listen to any engine, any cogitator, any bit of equipment and immediately know what it was in most dire need of. Tempestor Prime Gareth, head of the 133rd Lambdan Lions knew better than to doubt the techpriests on this fact but despite his knowledge of Lingua Technica, at the end of the day he knew his place. He was a Tempestor Prime, commander of some of the Imperium's deadliest storm troopers. Leave the mysteries of the Omnissiah to the priests. He and his men would take orders and crush the enemies of man instead.

The 133rd Lambdan Lions, though technically under the jurisdiction of the Ordo Tempustus, worked closely with the techpriests of Mezoa. Often times, it was easy to mistake the storm troopers for just being differently dressed Skitarii. Like the Mechanicus soldiers, the Lambden Lions wore red on their armor, some even had augmentations like their Skitarri counterparts and their weapons were equally matched in killing power. It was who they technically answered to that drove the differences. Gareth had his moments where he wondered if the priests broke protocol and issued them orders without the approval of the Ordo but he had yet to hear of such a thing. At the end of the day, it did not matter. It was his job to take orders and then issue them to the men under him.

He and his command squad were summoned once again. The priests wanted them present during the search ritual. One of the main cogitators had begun to sing again and when the Infinity Engine cried, then he and his men would be sent to another world with another mission from the priests.

It was no secret that here on Mezoa, with a thriving population numbering several billion, the techpriests were very interested in archeotech, especially those that were lost on worlds that currently were not under the light of the Emperor. Just as the worlds of man would one day be returned to the Imperium, so too would all lost technology be brought back to the god of all machines. For long months or even years the priests would tend to the Infinity Engine, listening to it's every murmur and groan, searching for it's next direction for it would always point to a world that once had a human settlement and with that, the possibility that another lost artefact would be found.

Escorted by the red robed priests, their hands and mechadendrites clasped in prayer and reverence, Gareth and his soldiers were brought to the sanctum as pistons and fans pounded and hummed, large cables thrumming with power as the large, globe like Infinity Engine highlighted a particular section of the galaxy, appearing as a flickering holographic projection. All around it, chanting priests sung the hymns and litanies, appendages, whether their original hands or mechanical augmentations, were outstretched in supplication. Standing before the main command podium of the Infinity Engine, a techpriest stood, deciphering the runes that were spelled out by the projection before turning at Gareth's approach.

"Welcome, Tempestor Prime." the techpriest greeted before making the sign of the cog a, circular wave of his mechadendrites.

"Magos Dorstadt." Gareth replied curtly with a salute, as was expected of any scion of the Ordo Tempestus.

"The Infinity Engine calls out again, Tempestor." The Magos announced simply, his voice synthesizer speaking in the non-mechanical language that Gareth would understand. So inefficient, unlike the much faster processing of the machines.

"We need you to go to the planet Corinth located on the Eastern Fringe. An expeditionary force was sent there in the years of the Dark Age of Technology. However, it fell silent during the Age of Strife. It has been silent since then and no effort has been made to re-establish contact with the planet. Regardless of whether its original inhabitants live or have passed, we must find any archeotech they may have left behind."

"Do we have any intelligence as to where we can begin our search on the planet?" Gareth asked coldly.

"No. That is why we took the liberty of contacting a psyker to read the Emperor's Tarot on this matter. Some things are beyond the realm of machines." The magos pointed to a blind but chanting psyker just off to the side of the engine. As he droned, various cards rose from a deck at his feet to orbit the air around him, sometimes one at a time, sometimes in groups. Some would settle back to the deck, others would continue their orbit only to return or be lifted up again.

"How long has he been like this?" Gareth asked, uncertainty growing inside him. He, like most men of the Imperium, were uneasy of psykers no matter how useful they were.

"17 minutes, 34.7 seconds." Magos Dorstadt reported quickly.

Suddenly, the cards tumbled to the floor, save for three that remained suspended in the air directly in front of the psyker's face. Despite his covered eyes, it seemed that the seer could see right through the cards. He did not wait for the others to speak to him.

"The first card is that of the Emperor's Light. To this place you must go. The second of the Beast's Scythe. You will find adversity and great danger. There will be death."

"What of the third?" Gareth inquired, eyes dead set on the psyker.

"That of the shrouded stranger."

"...And what does that mean?" the Tempestor demanded after the uncomfortable silence lasted too long.

"A wild card. Aid unlooked for, a hinderance and a blessing. A candle in a shadow in a light."

"I don't know what you're trying to say."

"The cards are silent on that matter as well."

"It does not matter, Tempestor. Go to Corinth. Search for it's ruins. Find what belongs to us." Magos Dorstadt interrupted, his many optics staring at the soldier.

"As ordered." Gareth replied with a salute.

* * *

Shas'O Sa'cea Diamoto stared out into the void, fingers steepled as he contemplated the murky path before him. The days prior had been tense. The majority of his cadre were wakened from their stasis sleep, run through the training regimes to sharpen their skills and then told that they were far from the empire and at the edge of the Forbidden Zone. Naturally, the news was slowly and painfully being digested; Diamoto's lieutenants were just as baffled and hurt at the news although he had managed to finally get them in line.

How did he end up here? How in the course of following the Greater Good did he lead his soldiers away from the Ethereals, onto the trail of a declared traitor and chasing the wrath of the Warp?

The dark entity of Building 83 was a catalyst no doubt but sometimes the journey astray begins closer to home. In this case, it was his admiral that played a role in the whole affair. When the Shadow Lance cadre was first put together, Diamoto was unsure of having Vior'lan Air Caste members running his ships. Vior'lan Firewarriors were known for their aggression and hot headedness and therefore, by extension, their Air Caste natives as well. Admiral Hail Wind, the head Air Caste of the cadre tasked with ferrying Diamoto and his soldiers, had proven to be disciplined and reliable though his personal temperaments reflected the stereotypes of his homeworld. But now it had played to Diamoto's benefit. The traitorous commander had hailed from Vior'la and after Diamoto had metaphorically, and almost physically, twisted Hail Wind's arm, he had the information he needed. The admiral set a course for the Forbidden Zone. Otherwise known as the "Farsight Enclaves" to the displaced Tau who lived there and their clandestine sympathizers in the home Empire.

Of all Diamoto's senior officers, Hail Wind seemed to be the only one who was open to the idea of making contact with the Enclaves though he warned that they would probably be met with distrust at first. Stone Dagger, head of the foot troops, remained in stony silence throughout the debriefing Diamoto had given. Head Hunter Korst, the Kroot in charge of their assigned auxiliaries, was neutral to the whole affair. Sha'ra, their Water Caste ambassador, was aghast. El'Vira, his sub-commander, demanded an explanation. Admittedly, going rogue and joining with the Tau who lived in the Forbidden Zone on the hunt of an impending Warp rift was not satisfactory to his lieutenants but they had relented to his interpretation of fulfilling the Greater Good.

At least they retained their discipline to follow orders even if their loyalty had been tested.

"We are receiving a transmission, Shas'O." Hail Wind reported from his separate ship. Diamoto nodded in acknowledgment.

"From this 'Enclave' you mentioned?"

"Presumably. It matches no other signatures from our Empire and it's coming in clear. These are Tau, commander."

"Put them on my screen." Diamoto ordered and then readied himself for whatever would be on the other end. Nothing could have prepared him for the familiarity yet suddenness of the surprise that awaited him.

Diamoto's brows wrinkled at what he saw. The image of a fellow Tau stared back at him, her face etched in the brazen sternness that characterized all those born in the firewarrior caste. Wild, powerful tattoos of billowing flames wreathed her face and disappeared under the blood red armor she wore.

"This is sub-commander Torchstar of the Farsight Enclaves. Identify yourself and state your intentions."

"Shas'O Sa'Cea Diamoto. I'm the commander of this battlegroup, the Shadow Lance Cadre. We are on the hunt for an enemy." the grizzled veteran replied. Perhaps it had been foolishness on his part but he was partially expecting to hear from a delegate of Commander Farsight himself.

"We bear no ill intention to the Empire, fellow firewarrior but if you are the vanguard of a war to take away our freedom, we will fight back, Shas'O." Torchstar replied fiercely. Diamoto was taken aback.

"We're not here to fight you."

"Oh? Are you fugitives then? Explain to me why a commander with a battlegroup at full readiness is at our doorstep when we know that the rest of the Empire has condemned us and declared our Enclave forbidden?" the sub-commander snapped skeptically.

"This has nothing to do with politics." Diamoto spat. "I have reason to believe that fellow Tau, our people, are in danger of a great enemy and I will only reveal this intelligence to you highest leaders. I must speak to your Commander Farsight, if he yet lives as my admiral tells me."

"I am Sub-Commander Torchstar, one of Farsight's Eight. Do not mistake my rank because of my title, Shas'O Diamoto." Torchstar said, returning his steely gaze. "You're lucky we didn't have the orbital stations ready their weapons and tear you apart on sight. Order your ships to power down their weapons and tell me about your 'intelligence.'"

Diamoto ignored the barb and sat back, entwining his fingers together as he considered his next words carefully. "Are you familiar with the entities the gue'la call 'daemons,' sub-commander?"

* * *

Miguel sat uncomfortably at what the Tau used as a cantina during the down times between battles and transit. He was flanked on both sides by his two new "friends" assigned to him by the commander himself. On one side, numbly drinking some hot beverage, was the water caste diplomat attached to the cadre, Sha'ra. On the other was Fio'la Yiv'ahe, one of the many earth caste technicians that kept the cadre running. He was busying himself by prodding and fine tuning one of his many tools that he kept on hand. Miguel's new friends, for all their sophistication and sincerity, they just did not replace Gunther.

"Are you sure you don't want me to reconfigure one of our pulse weapons for you?" Yiv'ahe offered for the upteenth time. Miguel didn't bother hiding his exasperation.

"No, bad enough you got me into this 'stealth suit' or whatever you call it."

While the rest of the cadre went to sleep in their stasis chambers at the beginning of the journey, Diamoto, Sha'ra, Yiv'ahe and Miguel spent the better part of two weeks tinkering, negotiating and otherwise trying to adjust to the changes. Diamoto decided he needed Miguel in a stealth suit, a good balance of firepower, covert capabilities and the ability to use a jetpack. Yiv'ahe agreed and knew they had several outdated but functioning models of the old XV-15s laying around. These were even slimmer than the XV-25s and while they lacked the more sophisticated stealth systems, they could still get the job done if used cautiously. Unfortunately, the Tau had to clash with many years of training in Miguel, training that taught him to fear and loathe xeno weapons. It took two whole days for Yiv'ahe to explain that there were no "spirits" inside the stealth suit and they certainly weren't actively trying to kill him. An even bigger ruckus exploded when they tried to get him to use the pulse weapons used by their firewarriors, the same weapons he saw gun down his comrades.

In the end, a compromise was struck. Miguel would keep his trusty lasgun so long as he allowed himself to be strapped into an XV-15. Neither party was completely happy and at least Diamoto was no longer considering him being collared via massive sedation. To top off the tech-heresy, an audio-modulator was strapped to the human's ear so that he could understand what all the Tau around him were saying. Only Sha'ra humored him by speaking directly in gothic anymore.

"Let Gue'vesa'ui Miguel be, Yiv'ahe." Sha'ra tutted as she continued to sip from her cup. "The commander is correct when he believes that it is best for him to decide which weapon he is most comfortable with."

"The Imperial laser weapons are durable and reliable, I will grant them that." the earth caste technician admitted. "But so are our pulse weapons and they have a far greater energy output."

"I'm still getting used to this throne-damned thing." Miguel grumbled, tapping the oversized shoulder plate of his stealth suit. "At least I know what makes a lasgun tick. I don't need to be having hiccups with my weapon in the middle of battle." As if to punctuate his point, his suit's active camouflage engaged and his suddenly appeared to be an disembodied head.

"The suit is still getting used to your biometrics. For some reason it decided you wanted to be invisible." Yiv'ahe explained with mild fascination.

"You told me this thing didn't have spirits in it!" Miguel snapped.

"That's because there isn't! It's purely a sensor with is driven by programming. There is no such-"

"That's enough, my honored comrades." Sha'ra scolded tiredly, not wanting to hear this very same bickerment erupt yet again.

"Is there a reason everyone seems short tempered these days? You Tau don't seem to be as haughty and chipper as usual." Miguel observed. The technician and ambassador were left in uncomfortable silence.

"We will talk about that at a different time, Gue'vesa'ui." Sha'ra finally said.

"It wasn't something I did, was it?"

"No. It is not your fault, we'll leave it at that."

Any further dialogue was cut short when all three received a conference transmission over their communicators. In the chaotic and logistical quagmire that was a Tau ship coming out of stasis, many commanders opted to keep their lieutenants in the loop via radio.

"This is Diamoto. Initial talks with the Enclave have been mixed. The good news is that they won't be opening fire on us."

"What is the bad news?" El'Vira, Diamoto's sub-commander, asked.

"We'll have to accomplish an errand for them if we're going to win their trust."

"Do we want to do that?" Stone Dagger's grumbled complaint chimed in.

"We do ourselves no favors alienating a potential ally and we do not know the complete situation on why they are separated from the rest of the Empire. I'll have no more complaints from you, Shas'vre." Diamoto rebuked.

"Yes, sir. My apologies."

"Very good. Recently a ship of Imperial Rogue Traders made contact with the Enclave and claimed they had been lost in the warp. When dialogue was finished, they left though they have not engaged their warp drives yet. Enclave command worries that the ship captain is trying to scout out the planets held by the Enclave and sell it back to the Imperium. They do not want this to happen."

"Commander, I believe you're the one that said politics were of no importance and our main target were the daemons." Miguel interjected.

"Correct but our cadre will not last long without support. We _are_ going to sustain casualties, expend ammunition and take battle damage. We are going to need allies, if only to supply us with what we need. If we do this task, we'll be able to prosecute what we came here for. Besides, they've tracked this Rogue trader ship to a nearby world. In the human tongue it is called Corinth."

Miguel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. If there was anything he had learned about the warp and daemons back on Building 83, sometimes intuition was more important than logic.

"I have a good feeling about that name." Miguel announced.

"So do I, gue'vesa. So do I."


	2. Chapter 2

The small fleet of ships settled into orbit around Corinth's dark side. The small shoal of hunters watched their prey below. While all three castes aboard the ships worked together to gather information on the planet, Diamoto and his conclave planned and trained. Aside from the matter of what kind of planet it was, how hostile its environment would be and what manner of inhabitants they would find living on it, the Tau also needed to improvise in their new situation. Diamoto was acutely concerned with their currently fixed numbers. Normally, his cadre acted as a moderately sized group of specialists. While able to engage in protracted battles, they were better suited for hit and run tactics, sabotage and infiltration. At the moment, however, they would not be receiving any support from anyone. No resources for repairs, no reinforcements to replace lost firewarriors, no extra manpower to feed them additional intelligence. In the long time he served the empire, there were many times he had to work without additional aid. While individual soldiers could sometimes pull off such a feat, the simple fact of the matter is that whole armies cannot. Adjustments would have to be made.

Miguel followed Yiv'ahe as he lacked anything better to do. Adjusting to this new life was...unsettling at times. All around him the techno-sorcery was evident in each glowing light, every automated machine that seemed to just activate without any moving parts or sizzling wires. There was a time when Miguel would gaze upon a servitor and shudder in fear knowing that at some point that very flesh-machine thing was in fact a real live person with a name who had somehow failed in their duties or rebelled. In doing so, they were sentenced to be stripped of their consciousness and their will, to be turned into drooling, shambling tool that somehow still had flesh to it. He had hoped never to become one himself as the very concept horrified him. Now, he almost missed their familiar presence.

"Help yourself to anything you find useful." Yiv'ahe offered with a wave of his hands the earth caste technician welcomed the human into his own personal workshop. Miguel gathered in the sight with a little bit of apprehension. He panicked a little less and less each day when he woke from his sleeper pod. The gentle contours of Tau architecture were a jarring difference from the bold angles of Imperial design. Each day it was easier to strangle the initial instinct to draw his weapon on the first Tau he saw. Far from trying to kill him, some even were mandated to take orders from him, as Sha'ra had tried to explain to him. Miguel understood that there were five "levels" of rank among each caste and the last syllable on the title they had given him, "Gue'vesa'ui," was the second lowest. However, the former guardsman still had his misgivings. No matter how friendly they were, from the architecture, the technology, the lack of noses, fifth fingers and the Tau's hooved feet, he could never forget that they were xenos and he was not.

"Where did you get these?" Miguel asked curiously with a raised eyebrow. Most of the pilfered human items in the workshop were useless trinkets, bits of machinery that did not interest him or weapons that were missing vital components and were therefore useless. All except the cigar box which, as he found out to his delight, was still full of cigars.

"What? Oh, we've had conflict plenty of times with you humans and after a battle I may have time to poke around and find things of interest. I don't remember what drove me to pick that up but it must have been important at the time." Yiv'ahe admitted as he summoned a drone and then began to dismantle its outer casing while it waited patiently.

"Do you even know what these are?" Miguel inquired as he fished a lighter out of his pocket before cutting the cap.

"Stimulants of some kind. I've seen similar looking items among the Kroot. 'Smoking' is a word I've heard being associated with it." the technician answered before starting to wire various components into the drone.

"Something like that, I guess." Miguel shrugged before lighting the cigar and and placing it in his mouth. There was something comforting about the familiar, smokey, odor.

"Take care not to get that close to one of the smoke sensors." Yiv'ahe warned without taking his eyes from his work. "Wouldn't want the systems to mistake a fire erupting in my workplace."

"What are you working on, anyway?"

"The sub-commander will be overseeing the situation on the ground from our ships. No reason to have our two highest officers in the same place unless we can avoid it."

"Makes sense."

"However, the sub-commander's expertise and support systems are invaluable in the field. I am retro-fitting this drone to house those systems so the commander can still benefit from them while sub-commander El'Vira can work here on the ships."

"I'm confused about something." Miguel announced candidly.

"Ask and I will do my best to answer." the Tau replied just as the drone began to sing in higher and higher harmonic notes in response to a diagnostic check.

"When I spoke with Diamoto back on Deimos, he told me that you don't have families, that you're all raised together or something."

"Yes," Yiv'ahe nodded. "Our young are raised in classes where they grow, train and learn together under a class mother who supervises and raises them with the aid of other teachers."

"But he also told me he and El'Vira had children and he knows what ranks his son and daughter have. It means that you all keep track of them somehow."

"Very astute of you." Yiv'ahe commented before launching into his explanation just as a shower of sparks erupted from the drone. "Just because our society has changed doesn't mean what makes us inherently Tau has. Families have changed, at least in the traditional sense, but bloodlines are still remembered, both out of genetic necessity as well as personal pride. Have you noticed that Diamoto shaves his head instead of keeping the hair queue that so many other Firewarriors have?"

"Now that you mentioned it, yes."

"It is a practice from his line. You could think of it as a bloodline motto. 'There is no personal victory, only service to the Greater Good.' That is why they shave their hair instead of using the top knots to mark the number of commands and victories they've had."

"You Tau are weird." Miguel shook his head with a puff of his cigar.

Yiv'ahe just chuckled and continued with his work.

Miguel grew bored with Yiv'ahe engrossed in his work and Sha'ra had gone off to take care of something and he did not feel like bothering her. He left to go explore the ship on his own. He was starting to get better navigating it. It was odd seeing all these Tau with their blue skin, all of them a head shorter than him. In turn he saw them watch him back, postures and gestures giving him due respect but their eyes showed they found him just as alien. At least he could understand what they were saying now. Not that it would have helped. The little xenos all became silent, bowed respectfully around him and then waited till he was long gone before resuming any conversations they were in the middle of unless he personally started one with them. He rarely did.

His commlink modulator chimed. He heard Diamoto's voice on the other end.

"Are you available, Gue'vesa Miguel?'

"Yes, Diamoto."

"Suit up and report to my bridge immediately. Operations will soon begin."

Having completed his tasks, Miguel quickly made his way to the nerve center of Diamoto's ship. He passed a rather large group of Kroot on the way there. The avian mercenaries still gave him the creeps no matter how much Sha'ra assured him that they would not harm him. He had seen those hunters ambush and tear apart guardsmen even more savagely than the Tau ever could. In peacetime they were calm and disciplined enough but that didn't change the fact that one of his recurring nightmares was reliving the scenes of battle with Kroot feasting on the fallen despite the flashes of las fire and bolts exploding all around.

Each Kroot hunter was dressed differently with a bewildering diversity of hand made jewelry, fetishes, melee weapons and armor, let alone personal body paints but they all uniformly chose the colors of blue, gray and black, the cadre colors. As was typical for a water caste to explain everything, Sha'ra told him that these Kroot were assigned to the cadre just before their deployment. Miguel was more concerned with making sure they wouldn't ever consider him a snack.

Entering the bridge, Miguel saw the room filled with Tau, the pilots busy working at their stations while Diamoto, El'Vira and a handful more of fully armored Tau officers huddled around a holographic briefing table.

"Welcome, Gue'vesa'ui." Diamoto greeted in his usual clipped manner. "Did you get lost on the way here?"

"Still getting used to getting inside this suit, commander." the guardsman replied bluntly.

"I hope you've been paying attention on your operational training exercises. We will be putting them to good use."

"How so?"

"Shas'El'Vira?" Diamoto inquired, tagging his sub-commander to explain.

El'Vira had delicate features and a lithe frame despite having the same musculature that all firewarriors had. A long braid of raven black hair fell from her head, several smaller knots flowing down it's length from which a single large one rested close to the base of her skull. The sub-commander began.

"With the planet of Corinth in sight and with it being of some...interest," she gave Diamoto a sidelong glance. Every Tau in the cadre were essentially trusting their commander and his human ally on this hunch. "We will be deploying our Kroot allies on scouting missions ground side once our reconnaissance drones assess the stability of it's environment. In the meantime, we have more pressing matters as the human ship has been identified in orbit."

"And as I remember correctly," Admiral Hail Wind's image chimed from the holographic projector as he was conferencing from his own flagship, "It is our job to neutralize them."

"Correct but they did not specify how." Diamoto cautioned somberly.

"Are you suggesting we try and take them captive?" El'Vira inquired, her voice clear with the curiosity she had.

"We are Tau, not savages and above all, we are Tau from Sa'Cea." Diamoto said sternly, hands clasped tightly in front of him. "We will try diplomacy first. If they surrender themselves peacefully, we will allow them to live."

"It has been my experience, Shas'O," the admiral spoke up with a cough. "That humans would rather die than see reason."

"What do you have to say about that, Gue'Vesa'ui?" Diamoto directed his question at Miguel who had otherwise gone unnoticed so far. He frowned.

"Rogue Traders are cowardly." He continued despite the commander's raised eyebrow. "There's good chance they'll surrender but they'll always try to escape."

"Explain, Gue'Vesa'ui." El'Vira prompted, speaking for all the other Tau.

"Rogue Traders operate on the fringe of the Imperium, away from the governors and the Inquisition, given writs that allow them to act with impunity." The guardsman shook his head with disgust as his opinion continued to bubble up. "They only think what is best for them, so long as it runs parallel with the Imperium. I hear some of them even make play things of xenos they come across." He was met with awry looks.

"Explain...'playthings.'" Hail Wind inquired. Miguel looked upward as he pulled a list from memory of all the stuff he had heard through the years.

"Torture subjects, weapons experiment, personal pets to be treated like a mutant show, slaves to cater to their every whim. I even heard rumor of some traders using captured xenos as sex toys."

The aghast looks he got were cut short by the sub-commander.

"I think we've heard enough. With your permission, commander, should we prepare the boarding operations while Por'la Sha'ra makes her negotiations with these humans?" E'lVira asked.

"Yes. I will suit up myself. You're with me, Gue'vesa Miguel." Diamoto ordered as he made for the doors.

"I understand that we will not seek to destroy the ship unless absolutely necessary?" Hail Wind asked quickly.

"Affirmative. Take out their engines first. Only when all else fails will you destroy the ship."

"Yes, Shas'O."

* * *

Several minutes later, one rejected attempt at diplomacy and a quick strike by Barracuda superiority fighters to disable the engines, the rogue trader cruiser was dead in the void. Scans showed that the cruiser's hallways were just barely large enough to accommodate a crisis suit so the plan was changed to exclude these. A modified Orca dropship aligned itself along the main cargo ramp of the cruiser, three full squads as its passengers. Two firewarrior teams and a group of pathfinders waited patiently as the Orca maintained in tandem to the cruiser's drift. Listening over the comms, Miguel could hear the superior officers fussing over Diamoto's decision to join the teams in battle.

"Shas'O, I am not doubting your martial prowess but how long has it been since you fought without a suit?" The pathfinder Shas'ui, Long Stride, inquired cautiously.

"Not long enough for me to forget my days as a foot soldier." Diamoto replied. Strapped in the hold along with the other warriors, he wore the black armor identical to the pathfinders, his combat blade strapped to his chest and a carbine clutched in his hands like all the rest.

Miguel was more focused on his sudden realization that he had a mild form of agoraphobia. He and a stealth team had jettisoned themselves out into the void and crossed the expanse to connect via maglock to the underside of the hull. He kept trying not to stare out into them vast...emptiness. It was moments like these that he reminded himself that Gunther would groan and pout but would ultimately steel himself with some sort of Imperial platitude or cliche and then snap back to attention. Then there were the memories Commissar Dalhiem thundering another war litany to keep their nerves up. It wasn't working.

"Stealth teams, are you ready?" Diamoto's voice broke through the comms.

"Yes, Shas'O!" the near invisible trio next the guardsman barked.

"Begin. Boarding operations will commence on your mark."

"Yes, sir!"

In one practiced motion the three Tau moved into a circular formation before pointing their fusion blasters at a single locale. Miguel probably felt his first pang of gratitude for the Tau techno-sorcery when he realized that without the advanced optics of his helmet shielding his eyes, he probably would have suffered permanent damage to his retinas from staring at the concentrated blast. Immediately, a sizeable perforation melted in the cargo door, violently spewing all the contents not nailed down and small enough to pass through the wound. Several containers, countless glittering jewels and trinkets and morbidly, several tumbling, flailing, crewmen. Their looks of horror twisted into grimaces of agony as the extreme temperatures of the void and the choking lack of air bombarded their senses. One by one they wiggled their last and became still. Maybe he had no love for rogue traders but they were still his fellow man and so he thumbed his palm and made the sign of the aquila.

"This is Silent Sword, breech is cleared and equalized," the stealth suit squad leader announced when debris ceased from flowing from the opening. "Moving in to secure the breech."

At Silent Sword's gesturing, Miguel and the other specialists moved forward on their mag boots, blasting away blocking wreckage until they stepped into the now emptied hold.

"We're in. Area secured. We are clear of the entry point. You may dock." Silent Sword announced over the radio. As the stealth suits formed a perimeter and Miguel leveled his lasgun at the only door he saw, the Orca lined up and practically clanked against the hull with a heavy thud. A series of sharp but focused explosions ripped a larger hole before several jets of air was pumped into the hold, equalizing air pressure. Only then did the Orca doors open and the firewarriors piled in, gathering into their famous gunlines, all aimed at the door while the pathfinders readied near it.

"Resistance spotted ahead, the gue'la have a kill point ready to fight us." a pathfinder reported, having taken a glance through the viewport of the door. Wordlessly, Diamoto walked up and took a look for himself. Miguel watched as he and Long Stride discussed a plan of attack. He could tell that there was one part of the plan that they were troubled by. Diamoto motioned for him to step forward.

"Can you tell me about the large human in the center of the hallway beyond and what weapon he is carrying?" the commander asked. Cautiously, and unsure how they had not been spotted yet, Miguel did as he was told.

"He's big, I'll grant you that," Miguel admitted. Most of the gunmen wore black and green flak armor while carrying stubgun. It was the man behind them all that worried the Tau. The man was heavily muscled while blue tribal tattoos swathed his body in great splashes of no discernible pattern. Clothed only in combat boots, black trousers and two ammo belts full of bolts, it was the weapon he carried that worried them all.

"He's got a storm bolter mounted on a tripod or something."

"The space marines use regular bolters, how do those compare to this weapon?" Long Stride asked curiously.

"Imagine two strapped together and firing at the same time." Miguel replied tersely.

The Pathfinder Shas'Ui made a clipped, harsh sound in his throat that the guardsman decided was the Tau equivalent of cursing.

"No sooner do we open this door and suddenly a storm of explosives will be hurling at us." Long Stride grumbled.

"Is there any possibility of bypassing that threat?" Diamoto inquired like a class father about to begin a lecture. Miguel was already busily scanning the room despite the incredulous looks he was getting from the firewarriors.

"Here." he announced, twisting on a hidden latch before pulling open a hatch which led to a narrow crawl space.

"Maintenance tunnels. Often used by the engiseers to reach machines we can't see, I've hear tell of Rogue Traders using them as escape means as well. Too narrow for many large things, including one of your fully armored firewarriors." Miguel observed with a frown. "But I think one of your Pathfinders could slip in."

"I will send several of my best scouts to create a diversion." Long Stride reported. Diamoto intervened with a wave of his hand.

"I will go."

"What? Shas'O, are you sure-"

"Quite certain." Diamoto replied, laying his carbine on the floor before producing his combat blade and pistol. "Open the doors and launch the standard close quarters fighting procedures on my signal."

"What will be your signal?" Long Stride asked in bewilderment.

"You'll know it when you see it." Diamoto chuckled before he stealthily disappeared into the shaft.

"I'm impressed with your knowledge, Gue'vesa'ui." Long Stride admitted as he and Miguel formed on either side of the door and watched the windows.  
"The maintenance tunnels? You could say I learned that from personal experience."

Miguel was surprised that the Rogue Traders hadn't opened fire but the door did seem sturdy enough. Any explorer of the void would know to invest in a strong ship that could withstand punishment, both within and without. He imagined that when their comrades stationed inside the bay were sucked out during the breech, they would have retreated into the halls, setting up this narrow kill zone that would have severely tested all but the most relentless of the galaxy's monstrosities. Miguel may currently have been one of their "valued auxiliaries" but he was convinced that without their technological might and steadfast idealism, the Tau would have long been a forgotten footnote in the galaxy.

"Unbelievable." Long Stride hissed.

Above the brute's head, a flap lowered down without a noise.

"Wait, what is he going to do?" Miguel sputtered.

"I don't think that's the signal but I know the Shas'O is only discreet up until the killing blow. Shas'la, form up! Prepare for combat!"

The opened hatch and the hallway was still for a brief, tense moment before Miguel spotted Diamoto's signal. Shadowed like the dark armor he wore, the commander dropped from the ceiling, blade flashing in the light. He caught himself behind the giant and latched onto his shoulder. The blade thrust into his neck, all the way to the hilt. Diamoto pulled it out and unleashed a torrent of blood.

Miguel never heard the order as the giant struggled and flailed in his death throes while Diamoto frantically held on. Before the other Rogue Traders could grasp what happened, the cargo bay door opened and the air filled with the thuds of grenade launchers going off.

Disc like projectiles shot out and bounced along the walls in ominous bangs and all at once, the air ripped as the grenades detonated. The Rogue Traders in the hall were thrown off their feet and onto the floor. Blinded and dazed, they didn't hear the squads of firewarriors rushing in, each scampering to a flailing crewman and dropping a burst of pulse fire into them until they moved no more.

Miguel walked slowly forward once the butchering was over, trailing behind the three stealth suits that activated their cloaking fields and rushed ahead to scout out what lay before them. As the firewarriors and pathfinders set up into defensive positions, Long Stride walked up to Diamoto who finally allowed the corpse of the brute to fall aside. Holding it up at a shield, it had taken all his strength to bear it up. The squad leader tossed the commander his pulse carbine.

"A risky maneuver." Long Stride scolded quietly.

"Indeed, but necessary and one that I was confident in executing. Remember, 'through boldness, victory.'"

"It would appear we disabled that bolter weapon." Long Stride grumbled over the forlorn, smoking remains of the heavy gun. "It would have been helpful if you could have carried that."

"Two strapped together is a bit too much to carry for a regular human as I." Miguel replied sheepishly.

"Oh, I see."

Any further conversation was cut short by a roar of gunfire. Inside their comm links, they heard the stealth teams screaming their lasts. Both Long Stride and Diamoto motioned for them to move forward as El'Vira radioed in.

"Shas'O, the biometrics on our stealth suits have all gone critical. I fear they may be dead."

"We're on it."

Just before the squads made their way to the room where they knew the blood letting had taken place, Long Stride stopped them with a raised hand, both he and Diamoto peering inside.

"What's the situation?" one of the squad Shas'Uis demanded. Miguel pushed his way to the front to take a look for himself. His words came out in a vomit.

"What sort of maniac would strap _four_ autocannons together?"

Splayed across the room were the three mangled remains of the stealth team. Diamoto and Long Stride knew that there was no way any of them were getting past the threshold of the door. Not even their comrade's stealth fields had protected them.

"We've hit a barrier. There's a turret mounted on the ceiling. It's too dangerous to breech." Diamoto reported to El'Vira.

"Affirmative. Dispatching the crisis suits to your positions. I would suggest activating your mag locks and making sure your helmets are secured."

"Understood. You heard the sub-commader, Shas'la." Diamoto barked at his men.

The group got back to the business of waiting. The whole while the massive gun whined with the rotating of it's turrets, the barrels eagerly waiting for one of them to step in its line of fire. Suddenly, a boom reverberated through the walls as the whole contraption shook on its hinges and then shot out into the void as a hole opened up in its place. Miguel heard the odd sound of air screaming out the tear before everything became eerily silent. Only the voices over the comms filled his ears.

"All clear. Lets move up." Diamoto ordered.

The path leading to the bridge was surprisingly empty. Miguel was not surprised. His feelings of Rogue Traders confirmed, he kept his lasgun leveled and ready. All of them were expecting a vicious last stand on the captain's bridge. Overheard, they could hear the foot falls of the crisis suits reverberating through the beams of the ship A distant whisper on their comms, Sha'ra was doing the work of the Water Caste, stubbornly but earnestly pleading for the captain to surrender and save the lives of his remaining crew members.

"I doubt there are many left." Miguel muttered.

"I'm getting readings beyond that door. Energy suggests that it is indeed the bridge." Long Stride reported, his hand held reader the only source of light in the shadows cast from the light and his dark combat armor. "If I were optimistic I would suggest that maybe their weapons are powered down but that is yet to be seen. Strange...there's another energy reading…"

"What sort of energy reading?" Diamoto inquired.

"From experience? I'd say there's a psyker in there." Long Stride replied grimly.

Diamoto nodded and considered for a moment. A series of hand gestures were made and the squads once again retreated into defensive positions along the hall, all of them pointed at the door. Miguel was left in the dark until Long Stride pulled him aside.

"Just wait, the commander is giving them one last chance to parley."

Diamoto hit the activation mechanism on the door which immediately slid open while he huddled out of sight off to the side. Promisingly, no gunfire erupted yet.

"This is your last chance to surrender." Diamoto barked, the translation software on his helmet speaking in his place.

"We do! Now keep your side of the bargain!" an indignant voice cried out.

Diamoto made a clipped, hooked hand gesture and the firewarriors erupted in, carbine leveled as each of them aimed at a particular target in the room but still no gunshots were exchanged. A squad held back as Diamoto strolled inside, his carbine clamped to his waist as he drew his pistol. Miguel followed in his wake.

The inside of the bridge was gaudy, nearly everything was overlaid with gold while jewels gleamed frivolously from various panels and instruments. Navigation servitors remained at their stations, idle and waiting for further commands. There were five remaining, including the captain who stood in his ornate great coat, the tassels on his shoulders ruffled while the digital monocole over his right eye bore angrily at Diamoto. He was young, all the traits of youthful hubris and rebellion written on his handsome features. Miguel sized up the four besides their captain. Two of them were obviously prime goons, their autoguns laying on the floor though the grimace on their faces said they desperately wanted to snatch them up again. It was the other two that caught his interest. In the back was a sulking, honest to god emperor tech priest. His many mechanical eyes glowing under his red hood, mechadendrites clasped together nervously in fear. Besides the captain was a very tall woman, obviously a psyker judging by the runes along her robes and hood. But the twin points protruding from under the cowl. Was she…?

"Are you bitter about this surrender? Would you rather that I set you free?" Diamoto asked coldly. Under his helmet, Miguel looked at him incredulously. Was this a pattern for him?

The Rogue Trader captain nearly choked on his indignation.

"How dare you ask me that? Of course I'd rather you set me free!"

The room briefly lit up as Diamoto's pulse pistol went off. There was a clatter as the captain's body crumpled to the floor.

"Anyone else wish to be set free?" the commander thundered. The room remained silent.

"Apprehend them and set them in isolation. Sha'ra will consider the best course of action for them." Diamoto ordered. Immediately, the firewarriors set on each one of them, at least three per prisoner and all of them comically shorter than their quarry.

"Shas'O?"

"Yes, Gue'vesa'Ui Miguel?"

"I'd keep on eye on the female."

"As in extra security measures?"

"She's probably the psyker."

Diamoto looked up at the woman who at the moment was the tallest figure in the room. Under his helmet, Diamoto raised an eyebrow, something the lady seemed to sense, written on the smirk that crossed her lips.

"Remove your hood." Diamoto ordered sternly.

Delicate fingers pulled the fabric back to reveal a sharp face with gentle features. Radiant, golden locks fell from her head above bright, almost unnatural green eyes. However, the most distinctive feature was the elongated ears that braced her hair.

"Hmm. An Eldar. Interesting." the commander murmured before waving her away, her firewarrior escorts prodding her thighs with their carbines.

"These miscreants abducted me!" the techpriest barked mechanically as he was led away.

"Sorry about the stealth team." Miguel murmured to the commander. Surprised himself at his sympathy for the xenos. He had been hanging out with them too long.

"So am I."

* * *

On Corinth below, a seer and a witch plied their trade, both casting their runes to see what the future held. One casted the talismans by fire light in the darkest cave, the other swathed in moonlight with esoteric bone. The runes were in different languages, the symbols unlike each other and yet to both of them, they spoke the same thing.

War was coming to Corinth and salvation, if it ever came, was shrouded in mystery.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Diamoto sipped from the small cup of tea that had been prepared for him. The older Tau rested his head on his knuckles, his thoughts as dark and brooding as the empty, inky void beyond his window. The faintest light of distant stars struggled to illuminate his darkened room. They were losing.

"Tell me more about Farsight's Enclaves." Diamoto murmured to the holographic projector in his room. He grunted faintly with the dull aches in his bones, an after effect from his scuffle on the rogue trader ship. He refused to admit this was a sign that he was getting old. Admiral Hail Wind's image did its best to hide the sigh he wanted to release. Instead, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"I doubt there is more I could tell you, Shas'O."

"Recap for me, one more time. I want to know what I'm working with. Their Fireblade will be arriving shortly to make his inspection."

"If the political affairs trouble you, I'm sure Por'la Sha'ra is more than capable of-"

"Admiral, listen." Diamoto sighed. "I know you are hesitant. Under normal circumstances talking of these things would be a great way to be reassigned and reeducated in the Empire. But the fact is that while I don't see myself as a traitor, I'm sure by now our superiors have declared otherwise. We will not be returning to the Empire, Hail Wind."

The admiral was quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in. Both of them were lost in their thoughts. Both left behind their respective worlds and now it was clear that they would never be seeing their homes again.

"You must understand," the admiral began somberly. "The Enclaves were originally going to be a new sphere, the start of another string of septs to the Empire. Because of the long distance, communications were difficult. Farsight, or so I've been told, always was...hesitant or head strong you could say, even with the guidance of the Ethereals. He always had a grudge against the Orks as well."

"But how was a whole new sept declared forbidden?"

"Let me finish, Shas'O. The Ethereals had a different vision but Farsight was adamant to exterminate the Orks from this new sector once and for all. Something happened in that war. They say he landed on a planet and was attacked by a different group of hostile xenos. He survived, his forces triumphed even, but this incident was always shrouded in mystery. Shortly thereafter, every Ethereal attached to his command was dead." Admiral Hail Wind was silent for another moment before speaking his next thought in hushed tones.

"I always suspect that mysterious incident and the death of the Ethereals was connected. Maybe all of them died right there at that battle. That would be enough to cause silence. At any rate, when they died communications simply stopped. It wasn't until our modern times that contact was reestablished."

"Why don't more of the Fire Caste know of this renewed contact?" Diamoto asked curiously.

"Only among a select few Vior'lan commanders. Wouldn't surprise me that the highest of the Ethereals know. Farsight was our commander, Shas'O. Those from T'au have Shadowsun. We will always help our own. The Ethereals need not know about it." the admiral explained with a matter of fact tone.

Diamoto leaned back in his chair. It all returned to the belligerent Vior'lans. So it was Farsight who was the shunned commander who advocated stronger close quarters tactics and was the one who ordered the development of the onager gauntlet, the very weapon that served as the template for the bastardized version his suit used. So many things were falling into place. But for the high ethereals to declare the Enclaves, a vast group of their own people, anathema just because a commander had ignored their orders. Could the Supreme Ethereal, Aun'Va, be so vain? Yes, perhaps he could be.

"Not to interrupt, Shas'O." Hail Wind coughed loudly. "But my crewmen inform me that a ship is approaching, another Manta. It would appear that the Enclave has arrived and are ready to begin boarding."

"Allow them. I will meet them shortly."

* * *

The Tau and their Kroot allies stationed aboard Diamoto's ship had gathered for inspection in the hanger. Each battlesuit was also taken out of storage and presented among the rank and file of the footmen. Lacking any squad to be in, Miguel was instructed to follow Diamoto, El'Vira and Sha'ra as they followed in the wake of this "fireblade." It didn't matter that they weren't even the same species, he could feel the tension in the air. He did his best to keep from smirking. For all their talk of philosophy, policy and advanced warfare, the Tau weren't all that superior to Humans.

Diamoto and his retinue stood at the head of the formations, tensely awaiting for the Enclave shuttle to open as they all stood at attention. The firewarriors stood ramrod straight, unflinching and unmoving. The butt of their pulse rifles resting on the top of their shoulders while fingers stayed on the trigger guard, rifles like the masts of ships gathered neatly in harbor. The kroot had repainted their blue tribal tattoos as well as the blue and gray stripes marked on their shoulder pads to mark them as part of the cadre. Their bayonets and knives had been quickly polished, shinning in the light. Miguel felt acutely self conscious of just how much he stood out, being practically a head taller than every Tau in the room. Only the Kroot could match his height. Too bad he couldn't activate his stealth suit and make himself disappear, at least, not without severe consequences afterwards.

With a hiss, the shuttle doors opened. Unexpectedly, four firewarriors armed with carbines stepped out first and fell into a defensive pattern around the door's edge. To the Tau of the Shadow Lance Cadre, this was a nerve wracking moment as the soldiers struggled to squash their martial instinct. To them, this looked like the beginning of a boarding assault and the fragile peace held only because of their counterparts kept their weapons lowered.

Next came the Enclave Fireblade. A long braid of hair fell from his naked head, knotted for all to see his long career though Miguel half expected more knots to be found on it. His face seemed to be etched into a permanent frown, two faint scars tracing along the side of his forehead. Thin lips, piercing, dark eyes and a strong gait, his armor was more robust compared to the standard firewarrior and slightly more ornate. Behind him, four more firewarriors, these armed with pulse rifles, emerged. Without missing a step, as the fireblade moved forward, his bodyguards moved with him, shielding him in a tight box that constantly scanned for trouble.

The moving gun huddle approached Diamoto. Wearing the light clothing and breastplate meant for piloting a battlesuit, the Shas'O looked like the subordinate to the Fireblade. Miguel was certain that for the Enclave's part, all of this was an intimidation tactic. He noticed that the Enclave officer never once removed his hand from the hilt of the the ceremonial honor blade at his side. Miguel had been around the Tau long enough to recognize that most of the time these swords were usually strapped into their scabbards by cloth, their presence and representation more important than their function. The Fireblade's sword was unbound.

He bowed slightly to Diamoto upon reaching him, barely even tipping on his waist. The Shas'O was more generous when he reciprocated the gesture and brought his brow even lower than his counterpart.

"Shas'O, I am Shas'Nel Burning Land. I am here to inspect your forces and present a report to my superiors in the Enclave. Will you submit to this?"

"Very well." Diamoto replied in his usual clipped fashion when he was becoming uncomfortable.

Burning Land then turned his gaze to Miguel, seemingly noticing him for the first time. The guardsman suppressed the urge to gulp. Why did these little blue midgets always become so intimidating when they stared at you with their war face on?

"You have Gue'Vesa with you?" the Fireblade asked, looking at Diamoto.

"He is our only one." Diamoto replied. "But he's more than valuable for some of my operations."

"Which are?"

"Daemon hunting."

Burning Land momentarily dropped his bullying attitude to scrutinize Diamoto more carefully. He realized the commander was not lying. With a step forward, the inspection began. Miguel decided he found that a bit more bearable than standing around waiting for a gunfight to start.

The actual review was uneventful. The Fireblade would stop in front of a squad, a battlesuit, war vehicle, even the Kroot, give them a glance and then move on. Only the battlesuits seemed to give the officer pause, even more so Diamoto's blade mounted onager gauntlet. The hazard suits were also a curiosity. He was also curious as to why Stone Dagger's squad had different, more robust bonding knives that were unbound. Diamoto let the Shas'Ui Stone Dagger explain that his squad was the cadre's elite troopers and their knives were changed at first as a mockery of the space marine combat knives after so many victories over them. However, an incident with the Eldar forced the squad to use them in actual combat and ever since the squad drilled equally with them as they did their pulse rifles. Burning Land insisted that this policy be pushed to every other squad Diamoto had as well. At any rate, it was over faster than Miguel expected. Aside from their ceremonial tendencies, he had to hand it to the Tau for being efficient.

Burning Land, despite trying to maintain his dour countenance, couldn't quite hide the inklings of approval that lurked in his eyes. Nonetheless, his frown was a harbinger of ill tidings. It was something that made the other Tau nervous as Diamoto and his advisors continued to follow the fireblade back to his shuttle.

"I have found your cadre mostly satisfactory. Are there any Ethereals among you?" Burning Land demanded, the idea striking him as an after thought.

"No." Diamoto replied curtly.

"Very good. I am told one of our superiors will wish to speak with you personally very soon, they have just been waiting for my inspection. Also, one last thing." The fireblade summoned a drone which emerged from the shuttle. Hovering quickly, the machine floated up to the fireblade and began dumping information into the ship's data banks for others to access later. For reference, it produced a holographic image. To Miguel, it looked like some odd design, mildly similar to the representative sigils he had seen on various vehicles, armor and banners. Sha'ra told him that these markings each represented a different sept, central planetary systems, of the Tau empire. The drone was showing a completely alien sept sigil than what he had seen before.

"What is the meaning of that mark?" the Shas'O asked suspiciously.

"That is the mark of our enclave, the Farsight Enclaves. You may keep the fire caste symbol worn on our chests but for the shoulder shields and the vehicle markings, you must place this sigil on them instead." Burning Land instructed. He noticed the sharp glare he was getting from the old Shas'O.

"You are now part of the Enclaves, Shas'O Sa'Cea Diamoto. Keep your names but it is now time to adopt a change in markings."

"And our promised aid?" Diamoto demanded.

"Their ships will be arriving shortly. Welcome to the Farsight Enclaves." With that, the Fireblade and his bodyguards piled into the shuttle and left, leaving the bewildered Tau in their own thoughts. Flashes of anger and betrayal were clear on the folds of Diamoto's face. An equally disappointed looking El'Vira glanced at him.

"Did you think they would let us remain part of the Empire?" she hissed.

"Our meeting is over and you may be contacted later by the Enclave generals." Stone Dagger said. "May we be dismissed so that I may begin the task of equipping this...mark?" the grizzled veteran growled at the sigil the drone was still displaying.

"Yes, dismissed, all of you." Diamoto barked. One by one the firewarriors and kroot began to break from their formations and head off to their normal duties. Miguel found that the commander was still staring intently at the Farsight sigil as if regretting what he had done.

"Will you be all right?" Miguel asked before he could catch himself.

"I am fine, Gue'vesa." Diamoto snapped. The guardsman sighed and shook his head.

"I will be off then."

The guardsman was contemplating a visit to the range, not only to keep his marksmanship sharp but also ready to capitalize on any off chance that he might impress the nearby firewarriors. He certainly didn't need a markerlight to hit well. Unfortunately, he hadn't even taken three steps out of the room before a rushing Sha'ra tapped him on the arm with her spindly fingers and motioned for him to follow her. It was all he could do to keep back a groan. He really wanted to get out of this armor.

"What's the problem?"

"Hopefully if you come, there won't be." Sha'ra explained calmly. Miguel couldn't help but feel that the water caste diplomat was down playing whatever crisis was brewing. He sighed and quickened his step.

"Show me."

The halls of the ship were brightly lit. Miguel recalled reading from one of the war sermons that some of the higher ups believed that Tau were in fact afraid of the dark. Why else would they have so much technology that allowed them to see in the dark or light up their ships and abodes brighter than their imperial counterparts? Miguel was starting to disagree with these assumptions. The Tau were more like Eldar, too proud to have their surroundings not even one iota different than how they believed it should be.

Sha'ra's pace seemed to quicken the further then travelled. Miguel was also starting to wonder how these short statured xenos could move so quick. Sha'ra was barely his height and she was taller than the fire caste soldiers that surrounded them. Keeping behind her, he was surprised to see the techpriest they captured earlier milling about the halls, gazing in the deepest fascination at every light emitter.

"Esteemed techpriest? Would you please follow me? We may need your opinion on an important matter." Sha'ra inquired sweetly though she never once slowed down. The techpriest, his face merely a shadow under his red cowl save for the four yellow glowing optic receptors, seemed to hesitate at first but then fell in place beside Miguel. Under the wide shade she was, Sha'ra gave them a smile and continued leading them.

"I'm surprised you're not in a cell." Miguel murmured to the priest.

"I'm surprised there is another human aboard. As for why I'm not being held in stasis, it's because they have decided I'm not a threat, or so I've been told." the techpriest replied. Much to Miguel's surprise, his voice was alarmingly normal. Nearly every other techpriest he met spoke in a digitized voice due to the various vox casters and other mechanical implants they universally stuck into themselves.

"I heard that there are humans who turned their backs on the Emperor and grow up under the indoctrination of the Tau. Are you one of these people?"

"It's...more complicated than that. I'm Miguel Olart. What's your name?"

"Magos Ovid. I was one of the acolytes on Mezoa before those miscreants stopped over for a resupply and then discreetly abducted me for further maintenance of their vessel."

"Oh. My apologies."

"I consider their untimely disposal some sort of consolation. Even if it turned out to be a bunch of xenos."

"Well, you're welcome. As for the xenos, trust me, they can be arrogant and insidious but given our other enemies out there, these aren't so bad."

"We shall see on that."

Sha'ra promptly stopped in front of a stasis cell. A green, translucent pane of energy marked the field. Currently, it wasn't calibrated to hold the occupant in suspended animation but it did serve as an effective cage. Miguel took a good, long look at the Eldar within who had been kneeling in meditation in the center of her cell. Sensing their approach, she stood and wiped some odd, reddish brown marks that had streaked down her face. Towering over all of them, she looked down at Miguel, not only matching his glare but returning her own.

"So...what's the problem?" the guardsman asked, trying to hide the pang of nervousness in his voice.

"Several minutes ago," Sha'ra began all too earnestly, "our sensors told us her biological readings were going off the charts. Energy readings remained benign so we had no reason to believe it was a warp incursion. However, she demanded you by name." the diplomat reported, politely nodding to Miguel.

"Why does she want me?"

"I didn't ask. When your prisoner is weeping blood, you tend to take the request seriously."

"Well," Miguel began, looking up at the Eldar. "I'm here, what did you want from me? And none of your witchcraft."

"Most amusing but for all your hubris, you cannot back up your words."

"Who are you-"

"We don't have time for the usual exchanges, mon'keigh. I was looking into the paths of fate. I saw you and the diminutive leader." Miguel's chuckle was cut short when the eldar slammed on the stasis field savagely.

"There is a dark, shadowy finger on each of you in the warp. Something has touched the both of you and still hasn't let go. Explain this to me, mon'keigh!"

Miguel was caught between chuckling and groaning with dread. The news was not encouraging but it did explain why he and Diamoto shared a spark of intuition about the planet they were orbiting. He settled on sighing and then met the Eldar's glare with a defiant smirk.

"Let me tell you a story, xeno."

* * *

Diamoto sat in the command chair of his battlesuit wondering if the sacrifices was worth it. All of his life he had fought for the empire, for the all conquering Greater Good. Jaded and as battle worn as he had become, he still believed that it was an enlightened philosophy, one that the galaxy desperately needed in these trouble times. He had never doubted the wonder of their society, each caste giving their all to forward the Greater Good, becoming more than they could on their own. Never once had he questioned the Ethereals who led them. Then all it took was one bad night and while his beliefs remained secured, he had to throw away everything he had worked for just to continue doing what he believed was best, the decisions of the ethereals be damned.

But was it worth it? He didn't need Sha'ra's prattling to know that his cadre had been thrown into confusion, remaining obedient and loyal more out of well practiced habit rather than by convictions at this point. He himself had been disturbed with the rapid annexation the Enclaves had demanded over them and his subordinates were never welcoming of the idea to begin with. For a brief moment, he wondered if this what some of the lesser races felt when confronted with the Tau's expansion.

Distracting him from his meditations was the drone working on installing the new Farsight sigil on his battlesuit's shoulder shield. It did not alleviate his dark mood. His eyes turned to the door when they opened and El'Vira's lithe figure emerged. He knew from her body language that she was irritated.

"The new markings have all been installed, Shas'O." El'Vira barked grumpily if dutifully.

"Thank you, sub-commander." Diamoto sighed.

"Are we doing the right thing, Shas'O? Are you sure about that?"

"Saddened about the bend of the journey, yes." Diamoto admitted, finally looking back at her. "But never once has my certainty wavered."

"Couldn't we have remained with the Empire and still fight this errand of yours? I don't see why this had to be mutually exclusive." El'Vira demanded as only an angered Fire Caste could. Diamoto softened his glare and further slumped back into his command chair.

"You weren't there when we fought the plague entities with the space marines, no, that was before your time."

"That is correct." El'Vira conceded with a nod.

"Have you ever spoken with Shas'Vre Stone Dagger about that incident?"

"The only time I asked, he remained silent and shook his head."

"And have you asked him about the times we fought the Necrons, the Gue'la and their space marines, the Eldar, the dark kin and the Orks?"

"He...always had something to say about each of them."

"That will tell you how...different the entities of the warp are. I always did wonder why the ethereals never quite encouraged open talk about them. I'm beginning to understand why. I have the utmost respect for you, El'Vira. Before being assigned to this cadre you earned your victories fighting off the splintered remains of the Tyranids near the Silent Zone."

"Correct."

"The entities of the warp are dangerous yet still. They don't follow our rules. Yes, even the Tyranids follow a set of rules we can fathom. The warp does not."

El'Vira took a moment to let those words sink in. Her anger passing, she nodded and then sat on the armored toe of the battlesuit. The sub-commander sighed and shook her head.

"Everything is going too fast. I don't think I've quite wrapped my mind about what's going on."

"Once the drones return and the initial reconnaissance is in...everything will be familiar to us again."

* * *

Miguel had to admit, he was grateful for the helmet that hid his face, even if the equipment was tech-heresey. Sub-commander El'Vira had run all of them through the plan that had been decided on. Overhead scans pointed to a particular area that looked to be a large settlement surrounded by open fields before ending with an expansive and dense forest. As if by a mirror image, there was yet another, nearly identical looking settlement within the forest, if barely visible. The one in the open field was where they would begin their investigation. Naturally, Diamoto wanted to be directly involved and as stealthy as possible in the opening recon. He and Miguel would be literally dropping in from high altitude. Miguel was not looking forward to the experience.

The guardsman was at least grateful that Magos Ovid was graciously strapping his lasgun onto the suit, ignoring the Tau heresy that he was clothed in. For a moment Miguel wondered if he should try and explain his loyalty but in the end the priest did not ask and it did not matter.

Thundering in the ship bay was Diamoto's jet black crisis suit. Miguel recognized the different weapons spanning, warming up and running their diagnostics. The plasma rifle mounted on the war machine's shoulder and the spinning chambers of the cyclic ion blaster on the suits left arm seemed to thrum with energy. The wrist mounted blade on the right crackled with arcs of electricity, serving as both a deadly melee weapon and an energy shield. All at once, the suit powered down its weapons and looked down at Miguel.

"Are you ready, Gue'vesa?"

"As ready as I will be." he replied just as Magos Ovid finished securing the lasgun and looking over the guardsman's spare power packs. Finding them satisfactory, the Magos spoke a benediction in binary and waved his hand in the circular motion of the cog.

"Have you ever experienced a high altitude insertion?"

"No, I haven't." Miguel became nervous as the earth caste technicians began to clear out everyone from the bay while a large drone emerged and took its place by Diamoto's side.

"There are few things like it." the Shas'O replied with a laugh and gazed out just as the bay doors opened the reveal the pristine and mysterious world below. From this extreme height, everything was all powerful colors, emerald green for the land, gentle blue for the waters, fluffy white for the clouds.

"Through boldness victory." Diamoto repeated calmly and step towards the precipece of the door. Miguel followed, more out of habit than out of earnestness. His fear started to take him again. He was not sure he could make the final step.

Diamoto gave him a good push from behind.

Every Tau plugged into the comm net immediately winced when their ears became filled with Miguel's shrieks of terror. This was soon followed by verbal abuse directed at the Shas'O. The commander graciously let this slide as both continued their free fall through the heavens. Air rushed like an unending gale as their jetpacks made sporadic, minute adjustments. Soon, both were falling upright.

"This...is insane!" Miguel hollered.

"No need to yell into the comm link." Diamoto grumbled.

"How will I know when to fire my jet?" the panicked guardsmen sputtered.

"Everything has been automated, Gue'vesa. The jet will fire when it detects it is time."

Miguel, finally calming down, spread his arms and felt the screaming resistance in his fingers, the wind that refused to be tamed. He and the xeno fell in tandem, their suits doing the work as gravity sped them to their destination. Unable to help himself, the guardsman laughed with exhilaration. It was quickly cut short when the drone made a distressful chime.

"What does that mean?" Miguel demanded.

"Hmmm." Diamoto grunted with annoyance.

"Well, what?"

El'Vira's voice spoke through the drone. "There will be some unexpected turbulence. We may become separated."

On cue the wind screamed and against their wills the two were thrown and sent tumbling in the vast emptiness. No longer upright, their visions swimming and senses assaulted, it became clear they were not going to land on their feet. The jets shut off and Miguel heard another hum deep within his stealth suit.

"What do we do now?" he asked, grateful for the comms.

"Again, it is automated." Diamoto explained from somewhere he could not see.

"The antigrav repulsors will kick in and all power will be directed to them. You may be jostled but the landing should be far from dangerous should you land on something solid."

"Oh? How often has this happened to you? I'm a little skeptical about that right now!"

"Oh for the love of the Greater Good, Gue'vesa. You at least have less mass than this battlesuit. I'm in for harder landing than you are."

"But you have all that armor around you!"

"Enough. I will see you on the ground. We will make rendezvous when we can. Safe landing, Gue'vesa Miguel."

* * *

Bailey was a shepherd boy, having seen fourteen winters. The kingdom of Fichstner was all he knew. From the walls of the city proper, the towering castle and keep, to the open fields of grain, wheat and all manner of vegetables, from the neatly rowed orchards and the Gnashing Forest beyond. The people of Fichstner never ventured far into the forest, always keeping at least half a league from the edge of the tree line. Wood had to be harvested after all but some of the ancient trees were just too large and thick for their axes and saws to fell. Even worse, dark things lurked in the forest. Orcs, while rare, were a reality and the woodsmen and hunters whispered in hush tones of more sinister things.

But Bailey was a shepherd boy and at the end of the day, it was his sheep that was his business. Alas, he counted lamb short late that afternoon and he was loathe to let the head shepherd give him another tongue lashing. Unfortunately, he could only imagine one place where that little lamb could have wandered off to, and that was into the Gnashing forest.

Now, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the burning in his muscles of little consequence while the lamb was caught securely above his shoulders. He gripped his knotty staff with whitened knuckles. Dark shadows prowled and leaped in the trees around them. The boy knew what they were. The forest wolves were a constant threat to the king's livestock and no matter how much the Knights of the Screaming Blades culled them, they never could eradicate the predators.

A wolf or two would never consider attacking even a shepherd boy head on, not enough meat for the trouble it could cause. But a whole pack against a lone boy and a lamb? The pack no doubt was hungry enough and this opportunity looked to be equal parts revenge and dinner. The humans were oppressive competitors without doubt.

"Star Emperor in the heavens above, watch over your lowly follower. Give me protection in this time of weakness, that I may one day strike back with hatred against my foes." Bailey chanted under his breath, the old litany they taught children having been so drilled into him all his days. Only today did he so sincerely mean those words.

Two large wolves circled round and cut him off, teeth bared with snarling lips. Turning around, he saw the pack catch up and emerge from the shadows, readying for the kill. The desperate boy swept his staff wide, trying to keep them at bay. He knew he could not keep it up forever. One would work up the courage to attack him from behind and then it would be all over. The lamb began bleating inconsolably. Stepping forward from the others, the large alpha showed himself, sinewy muscles under heavy fur, his lips dripping heavy ropes of saliva from fierce teeth. Was this the end?

All at once the wolves looked up and gazed in one direction. Bailey was caught off guard but then he too heard it. It wasn't until the rumble turned into a howling roar that he turned sight from the predator and look to the skies as well.

He saw it, the Star Emperor's answer. A burning, shooting star despite having a body of black obsidian, the messenger slammed through the tree tops, snapping branches and pine needles while leaving a trail of fire. All at once it became clear the angel was an unstoppable object and without warning, it crashed into the forest floor just in front of Bailey. The alpha had been reduced into pulverized, pulpy mass of red and shredded fur under the heel of this newcomer. A similar if duller roar followed behind and Bailey was able to catch a circular stone cut a similar path through the tree tops to crash heavily opposite the angel, a shower of dirt and rotted leaves erupting when it landed.

Angered, the feral wolves turned on the messenger, shakily standing to its feet. Bailey wondered as fear and awe gripped his heart if maybe this wasn't an angel but instead a djinni. The dark colors, despite a smattering of grays and silver, was more associated with those rogue spirits than the Star Emperor's gold. At least, that's what he thought. The fire in the thing's three eyes did little to hide the sinister vibes he got from it.

Snarling and snapping, the predators looked like they were unsure of how to attack it. Despite it's size, their hunger had driven them to desperation and the shock of the alpha's sudden death left them without direction.

The djinni did not leave them confused for longer. Bailey watched it sweep its hand and as it passed each wolf, a stream of holy light would rush forth, vaporizing the wild dogs where it stood. Bailey could scarcely understand, much less fathom what he was seeing. How could something be one second and then be reduced to tattered scraps, smoking hair and charred flesh the next?

The disc stone, much to the adolescent's bafflement, rose and hovered effortlessly in the air despite not having any wings. A single glowing, burning eye was stuck on its edge. This thing, far more agile than it's design and lack of flapping wings would have suggested, regarded it for a moment before approaching the djinni. Bailey could hear the two speak in melodic tones, a song he had never heard on any harp or lute. He was starting to reconsider his djinni theory. Meanwhile, the lamb on his shoulders was bleating and crying in intervals, its throat clearly growing tired.

Scampering through the brush, a much more humanoid and approachable figure burst onto the scene. This one wore a simpler black armor and much to Bailey's relief, he could see from it's feet and its hands that it was far more like him, despite the similar three eyes to the djinni had. He couldn't help but notice the weapon it held. The stock reminded him of the arbalests the men at arms used but...it definitely was not an arbalest.

The three seemed to communicate silently to each other. After what seemed like an eternity, the newcomer looked down on Bailey and asked a single question.

"Can you understand me?" The voice was not much different from the musical tones of the djinni. Without a doubt these three had been sent from the heavens above.

The shepherd boy had to squint, brushing aside the speaker's accent but...that was indeed the language he too spoke.

"...Yes, yes! Are...are you the djinni's speaker?" Bailey asked.

The speaker tilted his head and then looked up at the giant construct before back to the boy. "In a manner of speaking. Do you know where your leader is? We must speak with him."

"Yes...he's back at the castle. Are you from the Star Emperor?"

"Star Emperor? I...yes...yes I am."

"Good, good, then it's okay. Here, follow me. I will take you to the king." Bailey declared, his timidness forgotten. Pushing himself up with the help of his staff, he scampered off, looking back only once to make sure his new entourage was following. The thundering footsteps of the djinni made sensing that easy.

Silently through their comms, Miguel asked Diamoto a question.

"Was it really necessary to totally annihilate those dogs? I understand you like making a first impression, but really?"

"Good to see you landed safely too, Gue'vesa. Tell me, have you ever landed directly in a copse that was the home of a razorwing swarm?"

"No, can't say that I have."

"After that experience, you tend to shoot at any local fauna that so much as looks at you funny."

"I'm sure you Tau get that a lot." Miguel chuckled.

"Gue'la." Diamoto sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Games Workshop owns everything Warhammer 40k. _

* * *

**Chapter 4**

From personal experience, Miguel could have told anyone that having a Tau crisis suit casually stroll up to you is unsettling, even if you've prepared yourself for it. He knew down in his heart of hearts that the Tau subconciously hated how short they were compared to everyone else and so overcompensated in all that they did. For the people of this "Fichstner" who had never seen, much less even thought of a battlesuit, they were reacting appropriately enough; barely contained panic.

The sentries posted all along the watch towers levelled their arbalests, shouted and hollered while men-at-arms swarmed with raised halberds to the large metal gates of the fortress. The peasants beyond the walls had long since tried to disappear in their homes, the booms of the machine's footfalls arriving too late for them to retreat. While Bailey and Miguel negotiated and tried to calm the watchmen, Diamoto and El'Vira examined the architecture of the buildings surrounding them.

"Who knows how long this group of humans have been seperated from their Imperium. It is obvious by their primitive technology that they have regressed as a culture and yet, their architecture remains the same." El'Vira observed with quiet respect.

"From what I understand of the humans," Diamoto started just as the gates began to open. "They can be unimaginative, but they're not stupid either."

Miguel was baffled to see just how many men-at-arms they had summoned to escort them, by his count several hundred, to the keep though he realized he should not have been surprised. Whatever a Djinni was, they thought Diamoto's battlesuit was one and this certainly was not an everyday occurrence. He'd probably act the same way if some freakishly large xeno demanded to see his commanding officer, except there was nothing his lasgun couldn't bring down. These poor folk? he didn't see their arbalests doing anything to the iridium plating or the nanocrystalline of his own armor.

The keep dominated the center of the fortress, a large tower adorned with crenallations utop a heavily fortified base. Few windows could be seen throughout the fortress and all of them were guarded by heavy iron bars. Ascending the steps leading to the tower, they were then further joined by squads of knights. The moon barely reflected off their armor. Although the plates were in good repair and obviously well maintained, the heavy scratches and repairs scars told of many battles fought. Miguel nearly did a double take when he realized what the knights were carrying. The design was antiquated but a chainsword was a chainsword.

"So these are the Knights of the Screaming Blade that Bailey talked about on the way here." He'd have to ask Magos Ovid about them later but he had never seen the design before, topped with a heavy spike for thrusting while the serrated teeth of the blades seemed more barbed than usual.

He was starting to feel more like a moving battle company what with nearly every soldier in the keep formed on escort duty around them. And on the watch towers were those...were they turning the ballista on them? He didn't like the odds of his armor keep those out. He briefly considered asking Yiv'ahe if he could get to work on constructing an actual battlesuit for him. Alas, Magos Ovid would probably give him a scathing lecture if he did.

The knights bore their gnarled weapons stiffly, both hands clasped on the hilt and held vertically in front of them. Using the readings from El'Vira's drone, Miguel could hear the Tau strategists commenting on the kingdom's show of arms. Even though it was a primitive culture, this was a startlingly large army and who knows how many more were being kept hidden from view. After all, the knights seen here were only the night watch.

"Hold!" A knight bellowed and at once the formation stopped. Looking around, the guardsman wondered why they were stopping here of all places. It wasn't until he looked up that he saw the builders had allowed for the luxury of a very small balcony to jut from the walls. Already, a woman bedecked in jewels and a purple dress waited there. The many diamonds in her tiara reflected the stars in the sky. When she looked down, her eyes were hard on the intruders to her realm.

"I am Queen Frieda, reigning regent of Fichstner." her voice was used to giving commands and being obeyed immediately. Miguel hoped she did not seem to be the kind of ruler who was needlessly cruel but nonetheless she did not seem to be compassionate either.

"And who are you strangers who come to my gates and waken me at this unwelcoming hour?"

Miguel felt the silence go on longer than it should have. Nervousness dried his throat. The commander was more the type to speak during these situations. Right? Before he could mentally flail any longer, he heard Sha'ra's calming voice instruct in his ear piece.

"Hello, Gue'vesa Miguel. Would you do me a favor? We would like you to be our spokesman. Tell them your name and that you represent the Tau."

"I-I am Miguel Olart. I speak for the Tau...of the Enclaves." the guardsman sputtered. He took some comfort in knowing that he just needed to follow instructions. Just listen to Sha'ra. Listen and follow, just like in the guard.

"Tau? Enclaves? Are these the names that the Djinn who have taken you into custody use?" Frieda demanded. Miguel was not sure how to respond to that. Slowly, Sha'ra began to walk him through what to do.

"We come from the stars and we mean you no harm. We are many castes, but one people. We believe in the Greater Good and we welcome you to take your place in it."

"Those are pretty words," Frieda replied brazenly. "But you have come here for a reason. Please tell me your purpose here for Fichstner is in troubled times and there is much that demands our attention."

"The answer for that is on you and the commander." Sha'ra said patiently. Miguel had to keep from gulping. At the most crucial moment, he was now being told to fly solo.

"I am Shas'O Diamoto." the commander boomed through his suit. All eyes turned on him as if he had somehow disappeared during the conversation. "We are hunting an evil that cannot be grasped though all know it when they see it. Have there been any usual happenings in your realm? Anything that goes against what you know, where chaos incarnate walks?"

"And you are the Djinni that commands him?" Frieda demanded.

"Yes."

"Then your answer is no. We have seen no such things."

"Very well then. If you spot such things in the future, please find a way to contact us. We can help in such matters."

"Help?" Frieda suddenly thundered. She spat the word into the air.

"Maybe we should let Sha'ra step in." Miguel said quickly into the comms.

"If you want to help, Djinni, you will first help us."

"Then by all means, tell us what ails the Kingdom of Fichstner."

* * *

"Eve of Mourning. Well that's a play on words." Miguel said to himself on the comms net as he and Diamoto stepped out of the city walls. All in all, the queen had given the orders for her soldiers to be in full cooperation with the "Djinn who would come from the sky." Miguel liked to think that was a victory even though the knights and men-at-arms always seemed worried they were going to be eaten in the presence of the Tau.

"Every twenty passing of seasons, the night raiders arrive from the skies, on ships lighter than air and steal away half of the people no matter how well they prepare, how they fight back or hide." Diamoto said to himself thoughtfully, repeating the words that Frieda had said.

"I feel like I should recognize what that really means. These people don't have the same definitions that we do."

"It's an Eldar raid. Possibly their dark kin." Diamoto replied bluntly. Up in the skies shooting stars turning into blazing halos as the ships of the Shadow Lance cadre made their journey closer.

"And that would explain the military build up; they've been preparing for this next raid." Miguel opined.

"Correct. And we have two solar days to prepare. El'Vira and the captains of the guard are drafting battle plans."

"I know they're not part of the Imperium proper, they don't know about Tau and xenos," Miguel murmured quietly while looking over his shoulder. "But do you think we can fully trust on their total cooperation?"

"I'm worried, too, Gue'vesa." Diamoto admitted. "But as you said, they don't know of Tau or the Imperium. They're just a desperate folk who are more afraid of the Eve of Mourning than they are of my battlesuit."

"Do you think that'll be enough time to prepare?"

"I doubt it, but we'll have to try."

"Are you sure it's Dark Eldar? I never fought them before. The commissar and the briefing sermons were more focused on you Tau. What little of them was mention was...horrifying."

"They are leeches, Gue'vesa." Diamoto replied patiently, still watching the landing craft arrive. "They need a steady supply of slaves and...cattle for lack of a better word. Wouldn't a nonaffiliated world with primitive technology be a perfect steady source of this? Hence why they never completely wipe out this city, just cull what they need."

"Makes sense. You fought them before, right?" Miguel asked.

"Don't remind me."

The Orca dropships were unloading their cargo in a fallow field just outside the city walls. The roar of engines and hum of anti-grav propulsion kicking into overdrive was thick in the air. If the residents of the kingdom hadn't woken up in the initial ruckus of the Djinni and his star messenger entry, they did now. Miguel noticed the head analogue of the crisis suit snap to a different direction, intently watching an errant group of Orcas.

"What's wrong?"

"Those ships don't belong to us."

"They're painted red." Miguel observed, squinting through the gloom of the pre-dawn.

"Our Enclave benefactors have made good on their promise." Diamoto murmured, satisfaction in his voice.

The two walked up to the arriving drop craft, six of them maintaining a loose formation as they finally landed, steam rising from the hulls as the material cooled from the stress of atmospheric entry. Miguel looked up at Diamoto.

"Considering all those pulse rifles that are going to be in there, I'm pretty sure we can stop anything we find."

"Don't be overconfident, Gue'vesa." Diamoto tutted, though he still wore a smile. "There will be bloodshed. And these first few actions will be nothing compared to whatever demonic machinations that will erupt. We will need more reinforcements. But this is a good start."

Diamoto was more than just a little shocked when the bay doors opened. The first two revealed Kroot bristling with their barbed weapons and faces tattooed in red. The next two were filled with the buzzing wings of Vespid. The last two's occupants looked remarkably similar to Miguel.

"They sent us allies, not firewarriors." Diamoto murmured.

* * *

Sha'ra was the picture of content serenity. A smile under the wide shade she wore, she brought a cup of tea to her lips and sipped quietly before returning it with a quiet clack. Behind her, Shas'vre Stone Dagger stood stock still, his helmet removed but otherwise decked with all his armor and clutching his rifle, his war face worn so to keep their prisoner on her toes.

The Eldar almost wanted to laugh at him. She could at least appreciate the Tau diplomat remaining genuine. Of course, half of what any Water Caste Tau did was for posturing but at least she sincerely was here for a talk. Stone Dagger, a Fire Caste through and through, did not know what to do in this situation and so resorted to the only thing he knew. Oh the futility of the lesser races.

The Tau had been nice enough. Consider what other lesser species would have done, a stasis cell set only to paralyze her should she do anything untoward was a great mercy. Food came at a regular basis and although meager, was well prepared. She wasn't even restrained though a constant detachment of armed soldiers escorted her everywhere at gunpoint if she ever was taken from her cell.

"So," Sha'ra began as she entwined her fingers in her lap while she folded one leg over the other, dainty hooves poking out from her dress. "Your name is Feandra, correct?"

"The younger races have trouble pronouncing my full name. That's the shortest I can make it while making it the easiest to pronounce." Feandra shot back.

"Am I pronouncing it correctly?"

"Technically no, but you're probably not going to get any better. There are subtle nuances even you Tau cannot get."

"I see. Well, so long as you find it satisfactory. And I do apologize for our shortcomings."

"Of which you have many," Leandra said with a sigh. "But I will overlook them."

Under her cold exterior, a small part of her laughed at Stone Dagger's growing scowl. The silly warrior was taking each and every one of her barbs too seriously. At least Sha'ra was showing a little more restraint. Right now, the diplomat was keeping her nice side up. Perhaps the Tau was too used to far more hostile negotiations than to be swayed by petty mockery. Nonetheless, it was still funny to extract some pleasure out of Stone Dagger's expense.

"Can you tell me about your home planet?" Sha'ra asked sweetly.

"No."

"Can you tell me what your role is in Eldar society?"

"No."

"What brought you among the ranks of the Rogue Traders?"

"Fate."

It took all of Feandra's self control to keep from giggling when Stone Dagger let out a frustrated growl.

"I hope you understand, Feandra that without clarity we cannot help us to help you." Sha'ra warned with regret. The Eldar wondered just how much of it was manufactured sincerity.

"You are mistaken, diplomat." Feandra replied calmly. Sha'ra tilted her head in reply. Stone Dagger noticeably let his hand lower to the pulse pistol at his side. "You need me to help you, regardless of whether or not you keep me in a cage or let me walk freely."

"And what makes you say that?" Sha'ra inquired, completely intrigued.

The jewelry and trinkets Feandra wore, from the many decorative symbols on her belt to the icons on her earrings, rose into the air with ghostly effect, each glowing with a ghastly blue hue. It took a moment for either of them to realize that Stone Dagger had whipped the pistol from his holster and centered it on the Eldar.

"The strands of fate call, Tau. War is here and you'll need my help."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Stone Dagger spat, his voice a little too hostile and heavy for Sha'ra's liking.

"Very soon, you will not have a choice. I would suggest consulting with your superior officer on this matter. He will say yes." Feandra replied defiantly, allowing herself the pleasure of a smirk.

"Shas'vre, please remain calm." Sha'ra tutted though her breathless voice showed that she had been unsettled.

"I'm not removing this weapon from her until I know it is safe." the firewarrior growled.

"I did not ask you to. I just want you to remain calm. Let me send off the drone to relay the request."

Hidden in her lap, a palm sized drone rose from her large sash and made its way out the door. It was all a show, of course. Sub-commander El'Vira had been listening in the whole time and was frantically waving down Diamoto who was still in his battlesuit. Sha'ra could hear them conference intensely for a brief moment before the commander agreed to speak to the prisoner directly. The diplomat grabbed her shade when she noticed it starting to float off her head. Stone Dagger still had his pistol pointed directly at the Eldar. She feared for his teeth however, his jaws were clenched horribly tight for the longest time now.

Suddenly, Diamoto's image appeared in the nearby wall monitor. His raised brows showed his surprise but otherwise he maintained his composure. It was also very clear he wanted to ask several questions but finally narrowed it down to one.

"Is everything all right, Por'la Sha'ra?"

"The Eldar says that we need her help. I hope it is her way of offering assistance."

"As much as I find it uncomfortable to do, yes, I am offering to help your naive kind."

"What are your motives, Eldar?" Diamoto asked bluntly.

"We detest She Who Thirsts from the day we are born to the day we die, our spirits always wary of Her dark gaze. By extension, we loathe all of the Ruinous powers. A part of me feels that this debases me but in the end, I must help you stop whatever machinations of the Warp that will erupt on this world. The runes all point to it happening here in the very near future." Feandra admitted.

"Very well, that will do. Shas'vre Stone Dagger, you may release her."

"Forgive me my skepticism, Shas'O, but how do we know this isn't some ploy for her to kill us and escape?" Stone Dagger growled, his eyes not even moving from his target.

"By the Tau'va, Shas'vre, she's a psyker." Diamoto's admonishment oddly flat in the room where nearly everything but the occupants and whatever wasn't bolted down was now levitating.

"Clarify, Shas'O."

"If she wanted you all dead, you already would be."

* * *

Diamoto was quietly fuming in his command chair as El'Vira finalized the battle plans with Queen Frieda's generals. While he approved of their work, he still was unsure of these soldiers the Enclave sent. Pulling data that he had just been given access to, it didn't take a lot of research to figure out he was being sent second rate soldiers. The Kroot unit had just been formed, descendants of Kroot volunteers scattered throughout the Enclaves. No prior combat not only meant lack of experience but also lack of any physical boost they may have gleaned from genetic material consumed from their fallen enemies. The Gue'vesa were not much better; while listed serving in a campaign against Orks, closer inspection showed they only took part in the occupation, away from the front lines. The Vespid showed the most potential but they only had five raiding actions to their credit. Even Burning Land had a black mark to his name, an otherwise robust career marred by a single disastrous lapse in judgement that wiped out four squads of firewarriors, needlessly so as judged by the Enclave superiors. Diamoto could tell he was not being taken seriously.

Miguel looked out into the open fields that surrounded the kingdom, the many houses and buildings both within and without the fortress city walls and Emperor knows how many souls dwelled in them. To think they were now being tasked with defending them all, against an Eldar raid no less. With some dismay, the guardsman realized he had never been briefed on how to fight them. Since the day of his mustering, the priests and commanders preached nothing but the Tau and how to stop them in their war sermons. And now here he was fighting on their side, forced inside their tech-sorcery and even holding a level leadership. He chuckled dryly to himself.

"What is it, Gue'vesa?" Diamoto grumbled moodily.

"Nothing, just thinking how hard this would be to explain to the Inquisition if they ever showed up."

"Why would they show up?"

"Nothing, just a stray thought. Anyway, I do have a question for you."

"Speak."

"The plan El'Vira and the soldiers are coming up with...you actually think it'll work?" Miguel inquired, the hesitation clear on his voice.

"I'll admit, it isn't conventional and I haven't done anything like it before." Diamoto conceded with a nod. "But given the circumstance, I don't have a better idea myself."

"I guess it'll have to do then." Miguel sighed. Off in the distance, he could see the farmers being joined by the men-at-arms and even the knights in the harvesting of the tall strands of hay.

They had two more days to prepare.

* * *

Uuviex smiled maliciously as the clawed fingers of his gauntlets clacked together. The sound of the arco-flail cracked through the air followed by the howls of the hapless soul whose torments would feed the Dark Eldar within. He was looking forward to the Cull that would soon follow. Another few hours more and he would be rich in slaves and plunder, more tribute to pay to the Archon, more chips for him to pay so that one day he too could have his own sizeable empire in the dark city of Commorragh.

Uuviex knew he was small game but no one survived in Commorragh without a little ambition. At least he had won security among Vect's organization, the Kabal of the Black Heart. The young upstart had no illusions on where he stood. He was at the bottom but he always did respect that Asdrubael Vect, as monstrous a pustule that he was, was a man that respect skill. The last cull of Corinth in the lesser races' tongue secured his position in the kabal and this one, approaching ever closer with each passing hour, would see that he would rise ever higher.

"Brother!" Kalarath snapped. Uuivex sighed as he heard the clicks of his sister's barbed footwear stalk along the floor. Blood was only barely thicker than water among the Dark Eldar. The only privilege family brought was the knowledge that among all others in the web of intrigue they wove, it was your family who would betray you last, or at least until you've utterly worn out your uses.

"What is it now, Kalarath?" the young raider sighed.

"Belittle me, ignore me, insult me all you want but at least listen to your older sister when I tell you that we need more men for this raid." the wych ordered. Like all wyches, her hair was grotesquely adorned with large bladed hooks, her wychsuit skin tight, the barest of armor over only her most important vitals. Large sections of the fabric had been fashioned to expose most of her skin, a parody of both decency and battlefield sensibility. It was a sharp contrast to her brother who wore heavy barbed armor, spikes jutting out in every direction where it would not impede the movement of the plates. Scowling under the jagged crown of the helmet he wore, his thin face showed only but contempt for her.

"I've told you enough times, you worry too much. We can handle this raid with the bare minimum of hands. Vect will be pleased to have the raiders I've left behind for his other errands."

"I only agreed to have my sister wyches partake because this is suppose to be a sure bounty, one with minimal losses." Kalarath growled, finger pointed venomously at her loathed kin.

"And it will be! Why do you fret so, you insufferable hag?"

"Because I believe in being prudent, you foul mongrel." Kalarath spat. Uuivex's snarl grew more toxic. She never let him forget that she was the true born and he instead had been born in a bottle.

"Discreet for what?" he demanded with an outstretched arm. "They're just hapless primitives who call dull shards of metal weapons and fire sharpened stick and hide in base stone. You, dear sister, are still only a mere wych because you don't know how to take risks." Uuivex snarled.

"I risk every time I step in that arena." the wych retorted, the bare skin of her hips and cleavage casting an odd glow in the eerie light of the ship. "And that's why I know about risks whereas you don't. Don't underestimate our quarry, Uuivex."

"And you don't overestimate them. Now back to your duties keeping our guests entertained. You're being too soft on the play things, sister. There's a wrinkle on your cheek." the raider captain spat with a vicious smile. Kalarath sneered but could not help but raise a curious finger to her face. Fuming, she stalked off to leave her brother.

Uuivex was pleased with himself when he heard the screams of their prisoners grow all the more louder. Feeling himself grow more and more rejuvenated, he sighed with contentment. It was good to be right.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: The adeptus mechanicus hymn found below was found in an old rulebook. It is not my creation._

**Chapter 5**

Magos Ovid smiled contently to himself. If he still had his original organic eyes, they would have closed under the weight of his grin but alas, the glowing orange of his new multi optic receptors could not conform to it. Life aboard a Tau ship was trying for the tech-priest, surrounded by tech-sorcery which were forbidden to him, forced to keep company with machines that did not speak the holy language of binary and the Omnissah's sacred script code. He briefly wondered what it would be like to open his receptors and listen to their own code speech but then quickly dismissed the thought.

Even two days ago if someone had told him he would be working with the Tau called "Yiv'ahe" in the xeno's workplace, he would have called that person a liar or a lunatic. However, the Omnissiah worked in strange ways and here he was, the xeno busily working on the drones while he worked on the cache of lasguns brought in from the human auxiliaries who had been living with the Enclave. It amused him that despite all of the startling wonders that could be seen in the alien's techno-sorcery, even those unfortunate enough to be annexed by them still clung to what they were familiar with, the dependable gifts of the Omnissiah.

And now here he was, maintaining the stolen material taken by the Tau and returning them to who they belonged, the hands of man. Perhaps they were not part of the Imperium but Ovid decided to count what little victories he could. Two serpentine mechadendrites from his servo harness clasped the rifle before him while his original, human hands took apart each component, cleaned them and anointed them with the sacred oils, of which that thieving Tau had gotten his filthy paws on, and then slotted them back in place. He found the ritual strangely relaxing. Perhaps a hymn was in order.

"Toll the great bell once! Pull the Lever forward to engage the Piston and Pump!"

Yiv'ahe turned from his work on the drone that needed a new casing and gazed at the odd technician shaman of the humans. Surprisingly, the man had a good singing voice. It was a little too deep and flat for Tau ears to find pleasing but Yiv'ahe had always been fascinated by other species.

"Toll the great bell twice, with push of button fire the Engine and spark Turbine into life!"

With a twist of his mechadendrites and the slap of his hands, another lasgun was fully assembled and ready for operation, assuredly working at peak capacity. From under the red cowl, Yiv'ahe could see the techpriest look at him with a smug smile before singing the last line.

"Toll the great bell thrice! Sing praise to the god of all machines!"

Yiv'ahe nodded with admiration even though he did not quite understand the meaning of the song. The techpriest ignored him and continued his project. It took the drone beeping in annoyance for Yiv'ahe to return to work. There was little time for idleness now for a battle was about to begin.

* * *

Miguel waited nervously. He always got this way just before an impending battle. Sha'ra and Yiv'ahe explained to him that Tau were no different and their firewarriors, from the new Shas'la to the most battle hardened Shas'O felt intense pangs of anxiety before conflict. The guardsman was finding it hard to believe as he waited in this bizarre hiding spot, patiently staking out the kill zone before them. The Tau always liked to portray themselves as aloof and superior. Maybe they were just good at rehearsing false emotions.

Diamoto had attached him to Shas'vre's Stone Dagger's squad which bore the shas'vre's name. Miguel knew he should have considered it an honor as Stone Dagger squad drew its members from veteran shas'la who showed the highest combat prowess. More than rank and file soldiers of the line, Stone Dagger served as Diamoto's group of special forces. Admittedly, it was hard to believe that at the moment as they were hiding this in this...bizarre place, but it was the Eve of Mourning and the Eldar raiders would soon arrive.

Getting into this ambush position was even more peculiar. It involved arriving hours before hand and then waiting very patiently while others assembled the "cover" around them. Most of the time soldiers moved into an ambush position and then waited hours rather than waiting hours for the ambush position to come to them.

"Are you ready, Gue'vesa'ui?" Stone Dagger's harsh voice came to Miguel's ears. The Shas'vre was so close that he didn't even bother speaking into the comm link, something that took Miguel by surprise as it seemed like it had been the only way he had been communicating these past few days.

"As ready as I will be, Shas'vre." he replied, just as quietly.

"Good. Let me be clear on something, Gue'vesa'ui," the Tau began as Miguel heard a shuffling of weapons.

"My squad trains the hardest and the longest out of all the rest in the cadre. What passes as satisfactory among the majority of firewarriors is unacceptable to be in my squad. While you're assigned to us I expect you to act like a subordinate. I don't expect you to give me your best; I demand you give me nothing less but the utmost of your ability, the same as I demand from the rest of my Shas'la. Have I made myself clear, Gue'vesa'ui?"

"Crystal clear, Shas'vre." Miguel replied calmly.

"Good."

Maybe it was because it reminded him of something a commissar would do, but Miguel found the threat relatively comforting.

* * *

Shas'la Kura was a Firesight marksman. Early in her training she showed a proficiency for the more detached style of war commanding sniper drones, hiding in the shadows under a stealth generator and scouting out important targets. She was good at her assigned task and had never looked back. On this night, she felt a little more nervous than usual. According to the battle plan, the Eldar raiders would arrive from the east, over the endless forest before coming to hover over the stone fortress that was this kingdom. The eyewitness reports always said the same thing; the raiders would fly forth on "ships that sailed in the air" and come to wait directly over the city but for a moment and then, as if released by some unseen signal, would descend like a violent rain and abduct exactly one half of the inhabitants, always leaving just enough men and women so that the settlement would repopulate and grow only to be culled again in twenty seasons. From here Kura would be able to watch the whole event unfold and according to the battle plan, the honor of first blood would fall to her.

Through the network Kura heard alerted chatter among the Air Caste pilots in what had once been dead silence. Sensor readings were spiking. The raiders had come, as the captured Eldar had explained, through an ancient webway that only the Eldar and their perverted cousins knew how to operate. This one opened high over the tree tops of the Gnashing Forest and though they were distant specks, Kura could see that not a single raider slogged on foot. Her very lips went numb with anticipation.

"Sighting target, calculating firing solutions." Kura whispered under her breath, moving the range finder to aim directly on the approaching craft. Her trio of drones robotically followed her targeting path.

"Windspeed is minimal. Targets are holding steady. Too easy. Still out of maximum effective range. Hold steady on the targets."

She and the drones were mists on the battlement, unseen and unheard despite the AI hovering on their anti-grav engines, longshot pulse rifles trained with calculating efficiency. She needed to make her markerlight count. Someone else would pull the trigger, someone else would activate the weapon that would deliver death but the honor of first blood would fall to her for without her, the first shot would draw no blood.

* * *

Uuivex could practically smell the fear of the denizens below. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Vect had given him a lowly task fit more for a slave than an aspiring champion. But, he had to swallow his pride. Complete this simple task and from here it would be about climbing the barbed ladder that was power in Commorragh. Besides, he could have fun with this raid, watch the blood run cold in his victims from both fear and impending death while the rest wailed in dread as they were stolen away for a fate far worse than the grave once they returned to the Dark City.

"Brother...the cattle have come to meet us." Kalarath reported from the lead raiders that she and her wych sisters had commandeered. His dear sister had wanted a swift and brutal raid; get in, get out, like a typical run. Uuivex was more in an experimental mood. Fear was another form of torture and fear bred well on slow but deliberate movements.

"Explain." Uuivex demanded from his communicator.

"They're in full battle array." Kalarath explained, suspicious eyes on the distant but obvious battle formations. Humans wearing primitive armor, lined in ranks with polearms ready to be leveled. In the center of their columns within the walls of the main fortress were heavily armored soldiers, each bearing a chainsword clasped in their two hands held vertically in front of their noses.

"They dare oppose us this time? Even better!" Uuivex barked with laughter.

"This worries me, brother, do not be a fool! The humans are up to something this time." the wych scolded.

"It will come to naught! Can you not feel their fear already?"

"...I admit, I do."

"Then they know that they are already dead!"

Kalarath would not let herself be comforted. Frowning despite her brother's confidence, the wych looked over the side of the raider again, the wind rushing through the strands of hair and blades upon her head. All around the city were large, deep piles of hay, deposited in no particular pattern. She wondered why the primitives had been lax in their harvesting this year.

* * *

The markerlights used by the Shadow Lance cadre had been calibrated to resemble moonlight, a dull blue of limited luminosity so to better maintain the element of surprise. Across the vacant looking buildings and through the narrow slits along the keep walls, Kura saw more and more of the blue specks form and follow the jagged, sleek craft of the dark eldar. The crafts slowed, coming to hover over the arranged formations of the petrified humans below. As the murder ships came to a still, Kura watched the many blue dots, unnoticeable to those who were not looking for them, arranged on their chosen targets. She herself had marked the most ornate Dark Eldar she could find, the one lingering in the center of the skimmer armada. It was now or never. The first shot needed to be fired at the moment just before the Dark Eldar were ready to give chase.

"Longspear team, you have my mark. Fire." Kura reported.

"This is broadside team Longspear, orders received. Commence the killing blow."

One second the light craft was hovering in air. The next, the ship was a burning pyre as the classic whip-crack of a rail rifle round piercing air erupted over the city. The downed raider crashed amidst the fortress in a pile of torn metal and bodies. Behind the raider armada, from the forests, contrails of seeker missiles were rising from the trees as the Skyray gunships unloaded their weapons, each pursuing the markerlight information they had been assigned.

Kura smiled to herself. One second before the broadsides had fired, she had her drones snipe the raider who had the ornate, spiked helmet.

* * *

From their hiding place, Stone Dagger squad and Miguel heard the cascading explosions as the Tau greeted the bewildered Dark Eldar. Unfortunately, they could not observe the aerial carnage as they were tasked in watching a single field of view unless otherwise ordered. El'Vira's voice echoed through the comms as she directed the battle from her overview aboard the orbital ships but she had yet to call them. Their orders stood: keep watch over this sizeable house beyond the walls, make sure the perimeter remained secured. They didn't have long to wait. One raider crashed some distance away, ravaged by volleys of high yield missiles fired by broadside team Skyhammer, its dazed survivors stumbling from the ruin, the thirst for revenge mixing with the combat drugs in their veins. A second raider skimmer landed gracefully before the stone building. The Tau didn't understand the words spoken by the Dark Eldar squad leader as the ship landed but the tone was a familiar one, that of an underling seeking to salvage a situation that had gone sideways by at least snatching a fistful of plunder.

The raiders left their ship, ignoring their wounded brethren who were just starting to pick themselves up from the ground. At the yapping orders of their leader, they formed at the door of the house, ignoring the hill of straw behind them.

"Fire." Shas'vre Stone Dagger pronounced.

The air and patches of hay ignited as pulse rounds slammed through the night and crashed into the raiders. The firewarriors emerged from their hiding places, stray stubble falling from their armor as Miguel's lasgun screamed with their weapons. One by one the raiders began to fall all save one who leaped over the raider skimmer and was upon the firewarriors in the blink of an eye.

To the firewarriors' credit, they lasted longer than Miguel expected but none of them were able to retaliate to the flurry of blows the kabalite warrior inflicted on each of them. The Tau raised their rifles like staves to block the onslaught of eldar's venomed blades, only for weapons to find them. One died outright with a fatal stab to his cranium, five more were on the ground writhing in unspeakable agony despite the daggers seeming to only prick them. Having watched half his squad turn into casualties, Stone Dagger was on the raider just as the eldar left another one of his firewarriors screaming on the ground. The livid Shas'vre found his opening, hurled himself at the enemy's back and drove his combat knife in a space in the armor.

Despite the raider coughing blood and being mortally wounded, he turned his head and smiled a carmine grin at his attacker. The Shas'vre could only stare back in horror.

"There is a blade in your lungs, working its way to your heart," the Tau shouted as he kept sawing and twisting with the knife. "How are you not dead?"

The Dark Eldar did not speak in his language but if the Tau could understood, he would have understood that combat drugs have a tendency to postpone the inevitable. The eldar grabbed the Tau with his taloned gauntlets and tightened his grip on the trooper's neck. Even worse, the flow of blood was stopping and the renewed strength in the eldar's muscles showed he was only getting stronger. The agony of the five firewarriors flailing on the ground was practically keeping the icy grip of death at bay.

The kabalite warrior howled with agony when a red hot lasgun muzzle plunged into his eye. Miguel noted the smell of sizzling eyeball jelly before a shaft of red energy cracked the eldar's skull into fragments followed by the numbing silence.

"Get...get the living to the transport!" Stone Dagger choked, regaining his breath as he removed his crimson blade from the body. "Stabilize them. These raider toxins were designed to inflict agony, not death.

"And our fallen?" one firewarrior asked.

"Strap him in as well. He will be remembered." the Shas'vre gasped before turning to Miguel. "Thank you, Gue'vesa."

"Don't thank me yet." Miguel replied, his lasgun shouldered and aiming in the distance. "Those moving shapes from the other wreck tell me more are coming."

They didn't expect to hear El'Vira's voice strike over the comm links with a single command. "Reveal the trap!"

Behind them, in a shower of falling hay, the Devilfish transport rose from its hiding place. A shower of missiles and burst cannon fire rained on the nearby eldar survivors before it lowered itself to receive the wounded. Around the city, the same scene played out as heavily armed Devilfish and Hammerhead gunships rose from the piles of hay to fire high velocity munitions on the dark eldar. A stagnated and confused arrival degraded into all out carnage.

"Our mission is to ensure none of the enemies make it out of the perimeter and to mop up the rest." Stone Dagger recited as his breathing normalized. "No other breeches reported so we should reform in the meantime."

* * *

El'Vira held the role of overseer, watching the battle unfold through the myriad sensors and drone readings. Long ago she learned that Shas'Os generally branched off into two groups, those who led from the front and those who led from behind. The Tau saw no dishonor or added prestige in either, only that they found what suited them best. It was clear Diamoto fell in the former while she fell in the latter. Admiral Hail Wind was the only Tau she knew of personally who felt equally at home with both. She'd have to watch him pilot his own barracuda fighter if she ever had the opportunity one day. Tau military philosophy also allowed for their subordinates to act on their own initiative if given permission to, and to freely give their own tactical input if necessary. That being said it was odd having someone of a different race on her command bridge.

It took all of El'Vira's willpower not to be distracted, not to turn her eyes from the tactical map, watching the ebb and flow of her forces and her enemies. The sources of her discomfort was Feandra who was deep in a trance, "scrying the fates" as the Eldar had explained. Her jewelry and trinkets also doubled as the runes by which she scryed by. To watch the otherwise mundane baubles glow in a ghostly light and orbit eerily around the psyker was baffling to any Tau.

"Tau, move your gunships to cover the...how do you say, the broadsides." Feandra warned, her runes never once ceasing their circuits around the woman.

"Why?" El'Vira demanded with a critical eye.

"More enemies are approaching, and even an unlearned mon'kiegh who knew nothing of tactics would know that your broadsides will butcher any escape attempt on the part of my fallen cousins."

"What enemies?"

"Small...agile, perhaps you would know these better than I, sub-commander?" Feandra retorted with a smirk. El'Vira frowned in disapproval, wondering if this was a trick.

"Make the command, Shas'El." Diamoto's voice chimed over the comms. El'Vira shook her head in resignation.

"Yes, Shas'O."

"My team and I will be deploying. If anything unexpected happens, send our crisis suit teams to counter them."

"Understood. Skyrays, move your positions to cover Longspear, Skyhammer and Farhunter teams."

* * *

Kalarath and her clique of wyches fought frantically with the square of men-at-arms her raider had practically crashed into. Armed with large tower shields and spears, the mon'kiegh were clumsy and loutish compared to the graceful and preternatural agility of the Dark Eldar gladiatrixes. There were only five of them including Kalarath, four more scattered among the growing wreckage of dazed survivors and destroyed raider crafts, and yet they were tearing apart the column of men with ease. With the many bladed hydra gauntlet and razorflails, she and her sisters slaughtered their way out of the men, whatever wounds more akin to scratches they took stitched themselves together under the harvest of agony they had reaped.

She looked up when she heard a hellish roar rip through the air and the cries of the wounded. Another column of the humans were approaching except these were clad head to toe in heavy steel armor and held in their hands massive chainblades. They stepped forward in unison, the pound of metal on cobblestone rising some orchestra of war. Raelith, the most reckless of her wych sisters, threw herself at them, twin razorflails lashing out, great whips of serrated blades poised to steal away their attackers' weapons like so many other. This time, when one of her flails struck the material was ripped into the gnawing teeth of the chainswords. She hit the formation and fell two before the other knights simply ground her apart in a shower of gore and fragmented bone.

"Pull back!" Kalarath ordered. She whispered an order into her communicator while making her way to the ruined remains of her brother's raider, the first to fall in this whole deepening fiasco. Flails and blades keeping the knights at bay, she found the headless body of Uuivex slumped over the side of his ship. She'd look forward to his painful reawakening by the hands of the haemonculi. Picking the body up and pulling back, she found her brother's splinter pistol and fired into the formation, screaming for any functioning raider to pick them up.

"This raid is over!" Kalarath screamed into her communicator. "Pick up the suvivors and wounded and get out of here! Hellions, get out here and cover us _now_!"

The sound of burning air and screaming engines assaulted her ears from the sky and from the sky she saw the Tau battle walkers slam into the cobblestone, covering the human knights from further danger. Four of them, all heavily built with glowing optical sensors stared at her and the remaining raiders circling in the air. She recognized one of them from the words of a disgruntled kabalite warrior some time ago. A jet black, camouflage speckled machine bristling with guns and some wrist blade. This command suit pointed forward and the hazard suits raised their long barreled ion casters.

Kalarath had no choice, she raised the husk of her brother's body and stopped the high velocity stream of ions from vaporizing her instead. She took comfort in the fact that Uuivex could rot in the warp for all she cared at this point. He deserved it.

"Where are my reinforcements?" the wych screamed.

Making a theatrical entrance, off in the distance the defenders saw the webway gate open once more in a pale luminescence, dark "specks" suddenly being vomited out in swarming groups. Diamoto and every veteran of the previous encounter they had with the Dark Eldar felt a pang of fear. The hellions had arrived.

On dreaded wings they came, the hellions of Commorragh. Each Dark Eldar rode a horizontal skyboard and in their hands they bore the twin bladed hellglaives, each ending in a hooked, barbed edge. At their head, the elected leader spoke into his own communicator.

"You owe us for this, Kalarath!" he cackled, giddy with the anticipation of blood letting.

"Get us out of here, Kugraugh!" the wych shouted. "Whatever playthings you pick up in the process are yours to keep!"

"With pleasure."

With their impeccable vision, the hellion swarms broke off to pursue their own targets of interest. Following the built up contrails, some headed for the previously hidden broadside teams while the majority made a beeline for the central keep. The richest promise of plunder would only be ripped from the most dangerous places but the hellions lived for this moment.

Within moments, the broadside teams found themselves swamped with countless, agile attackers and stuck at an impasse. The team leaders knew that at these point blank ranges, and the hellions small size and agility, would make it impossible for them to actually hit their assailants. Conversely, the hellions' hellglaives and splinter pods could not pierce the heavy plating of the broadsides, nonetheless their constant motions and repeated blows on sensor systems and targeting arrays were scrambling the battlesuits.

"Launch all smart missiles!" Shas'vre Skyhammer hollered in a desperate bid. From their backs the smaller munitions screamed, then corkscrewed then spun erratically as the AI desperately tried to find a lock, only to have the hellions dance around them, cackling in devilish glee. The missiles then detonated harmlessly to no effect. Owning the skies, the hellions briefly wondered why the Tau vehicles were sitting benignly in front of the battlesuits, otherwise motionless.

"Skyrays, fire your flechette dischargers." El'Vira commanded.

Emplaced explosives fired with an abrupt boom. Nearby hellions were thrown from their boards or swatted aside and crashed into trees while others more were torn to shreds by the clouds of shrapnel.

"Shas'El!" an avian voice squawked in the sub-commander's earpiece. "May we now emerge and descend upon the prey?"

"Do so, Head Hunter Korst."

The unlucky survivors who had been cast onto branches and the ground groaned in horror as some of the bushes and shrubs stood up, revealing themselves to be waiting Kroot. Their blades glinted in the moonlight. The hunger that shone in their eyes burned brighter.

* * *

The soldiers and battlesuits in the center of the fortress stared into the skies as the hellions descend. In the blink of an eye soldiers were picked screaming off the ground in the hooked clutches of the hellglaives or lost their limbs and heads to the swinging blades. Some of those who were snatched were then cast off to meet their fate on the ground. Others still were swung from hellion to hellion, each feeding of the fear and pain of their quarry. One hellion dared picked up a Knight of the Screaming Blades. Both fell to the ground when the angered knight swung his chainsword and cleaved his aggressor in half.

Crimson laser blasts burned the the air as the Gue'vesa allies were given orders to fire back from their hiding spots along the walls' bastions. From the outside of the walls, the remaining Shas'la of Stone Dagger squad stepped off their devilfish transport and onto the heavy bulwark watching over the main gate and launched pulse rounds erratically after the hellions zipping through the night.

The heavy hazard suits launched streams of energy from their phased ion guns while Diamoto joined in with his ion blaster and plasma rifle. Despite the surprise the ambush was still in their favor, the raiders forced to fight for their lives as the cull turned into a fighting retreat. Skyborne hellions helped direct the last remaining raider craft out of the kill zone while the knights and men-at-arms hurled themselves at the wreckage of the fallen ships, pulling out their ancient tormentors from the ruins and delivering messy retribution on them.

Kalarath had ducked behind a broken raider when she saw Kugraugh swooping down to her. How predictable of him. In one swift motion, the hellion gang leader zoomed low and grasped her tight in one arm, carrying her like some plunder to be sorted out later. The wych, like all Dark Eldar, was too proud to be treated in such matter. Her anger flared when she felt his grasp tighten on one of her breasts.

"As I said, you owe me." the hellion chuckled.

"I bet I do." She purred seductively. Then she locked her own feet on the board, twisted, and shoved the hellion off his craft, leaving Kugraugh to fall to the ground.

"Tell my brother when you see him that he was always a disappointment, much like you." She yelled as she piloted the board back towards the webway. The bulk of the Dark Eldar were making their way back despite harassing fire from broadsides. Buzzing wings of Vespids rose from the trees to mop up any hellions who were foolish enough to linger too long. Some hapless soldiers found themselves borne aloft by hellglaives only for their tormentors to be blasted with a burst of neutrons and then grasped, still screaming, by the less hostile talons of the Vespid.

When the last bladed craft disappeared into the webway and the portal flickered out of existence, Diamoto and El'Vira took a moment to glance at the reports streaming into their feed. Casualties were light, at least among the cadre. The actual total could only be accounted for later once they had talked with their Fichstner allies. Diamoto could still hear the chainblades screaming as the knights continued to execute any raider they found. Some of them, along with the men-at-arms, were angrily mutilating the dead bodies anyway, screaming the names of sires and friends who had long ago fallen victim. He realized with some bewilderment that the primitive soldiers were displaying more savagery than the Kroot in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Nonetheless, now was the time to be pragmatic.

"Head Hunter Korst?" Diamoto asked in his commlink. His eyebrow twitched when he was greeted with a quick burp. There was an unspoken etiquette between Tau and their Kroot auxiliaries. The more squeamish Tau would just feign ignorance of the Kroots' eating habits while the Kroot in turn did their best not to be too open about it. It didn't always work.

"Yes, Shas'O?"

"Help the Gue'vesas gather the bodies. Feed as you must, consume as much as you deem necessary, but not a single bodypart must remain by midday. Burn what you cannot consume. I'll not have any heroic counter-raid from the Dark Eldar to collect the remains of their kin and try to reanimate them."

"With pleasure, Shas'O," Korst replied eagerly and with a gulp of "food." "Just tell the Gue'vesa not to start burning them too early."

"Please maintain military discipline and don't eat while speaking with me."

"Yes, my apologies Shas'O."

Diamoto shut him off when he heard another burp. Looking over, he noticed Stone Dagger and Miguel approaching him, the barrels of their weapons still steaming in the cold air. Both had removed their helmets and Miguel was fishing for something on his armor.

"Half my squad went down, Shas'O. I will have them train harder." Stone Dagger reported apologetically. Miguel had finally found his stash of cigars and was lighting one up in his mouth.

"How bad?" Diamoto asked his Shas'vre.

"One dead, the rest severely wounded but they will recover."

"Still, I think this operation was a smashing success." Miguel opined with a puff from his cigar.

"Oh that, I will concur." Stone Dagger replied with a nod.

"Here, celebrate a little." Miguel offered. The Shas'vre turned only to be stunned with a lit cigar shoved in his mouth. Uncertain, but quickly following Miguel's example, he took a few light puffs and then fought the coughs that came afterwards.

"Let the Kroot and primitives do what they must." Diamoto murmured. "Let the troops rest. We'll plan our next step in the morning."

* * *

And whole day had passed. Magos Ovid had been left to his own devices and was granted permission to visit Fichstner below. When the techpriest saw the Knights of the Screaming Blades, and more importantly their chainswords, it was the first time Miguel had ever seen a techpriest go scampering off with giddy joy. Tasked with escorting the Omnissiah's acolyte, Miguel was enjoying the light work. Shas'ra, Diamoto, El'Vira and even Stone Dagger were busy making contact with the other scattered feudal kingdoms while Feandra continued to scry out where the daemons might be hiding. To the Eldar, Miguel and Diamoto, the clear and impending disaster was still a heavy conviction despite being so heavily concealed. To the other Tau, it seemed to be more an elusive paranoia on the part of the Shas'O and the Gue'vesa'ui though they never openly admitted it. However, they too enjoyed the fact that they weren't being shot at.

Miguel put such matters out of his mind. He didn't know how Diamoto constantly dwelled on it. He would go mad under the same circumstances. Fichstner was beautiful in a rustic way when seen from the ground. The stone of the walls and building, while old, still seemed robust and solid. The people, while still getting used to the "djinn" of all shapes and sizes roaming the city, were more than grateful to still be alive after the Eve of Mourning and were generously friendly. Miguel was relieved for this as he was quite certain that was the only reason the knight didn't brain the magos for snatching his chainsword out of his hand without a word. The multi-optic sensors under the techpriest's cowl were intently focusing on the weapon, mechadendrites taping and caressing the surfaces.

"This is an ancient design, a little crude but durable and effective." he observed with reverence, his optic array logging pictures and recording sensor data.

"How have they been running all these years?" Miguel asked.

"Sensor readings say an inner power source much like the ammo packs of your lasgun. Easily recharged when exposed to sunlight. Even the kinetic energy of swinging the weapon helps restore them." The magos respectfully handed the knight his weapon back with a final word. "They are still in good condition all these years after your order's care but one day I must come and grant them all the ritual of reconsecration."

As if led by a hunch, the magos led Miguel to the tower keep. Ascending the stone steps and being allowed inside the heavy doors, they passed through a large, arched, darkened hallway.

"I recall from what I heard outside that the people have an effigy of their war god in the keep." Ovid said as they continued walking.

"Yes, I believe I heard something about that. Why do you mention it?"

"Those chainswords were meant to last. These people, our fellow humans, arrived here some time ago. Understand, chainswords can also double as a means of harvesting wood. Now, I wonder if their 'god of war' is in fact…"

The two immediately stepped into the lit central chamber. Streams of sunlight from the narrow window fell on the massive form that stood before them. Towering higher than any crisis suit and more heavily built than any broadside, it was more than enough to initially knock the words from Miguel and Ovid. After that, both were finally able to summon a reaction.

"By the Throne!"

"Miguel," Ovid admitted while lightly clapping his hands and mechadendrites, grinning wildly under his cowl. "I'd be crying now if I still had tear ducts."

* * *

Diamoto stepped into the meeting room his retinue had gathered in. Taking his place at the head of the table, sat back and took a moment to gather himself. He hadn't even removed the armored jumpsuit he wore when piloting his crisis suit. Still winded from his journeys and diplomatic meetings, his introduction was abrupt.

"Nothing from the other kingdoms. Most are in an even worse state than Fichstner is."

"I agree." Sha'ra replied quickly, still quite horrified at the disgusting squalor she had witnessed from the last "king" she had the indignity of making contact with.

"No sign of warp entities. No anomalous energy readings." Stone Dagger added.

"Orks, though." El'Vira admitted with a sigh, pushing forward a small projector drone to show them the holographic recordings taken by a drone. The others were taken aback by the findings.

"Some rumors and hearsay among the locals mentioned them, but I was going to dismiss them as rumors and folk tales." Sha'ra admitted.

"They're still using stone weapons. They're only ferals." Stone Dagger muttered. "Nonetheless, if you find some Orks, there's always a larger herd hiding away. That's a safe assumption."

"The Shas'vre is correct." El'Vira nodded. "The drone returned with numerous dents caused by blunt force trauma."

Diamoto leaned back further into his chair and sighed heavily. "And soon our new human allies will demand we take care of that problem too. We're being distracted from our true goal." the Shas'O grumbled. No one responded.

"However," Diamoto lit up when a though struck his mind. He looked back at the image of the Orks caught on the holographic still.

"We can use this to our advantage." he smiled with a crafty grin.


End file.
